⋆｡‧˚ʚJaydaɞ˚‧｡⋆ @seungminntheroom - Tumblr Blog

all the little wins 1 ⟢ bang chan

── .✦ You start the school year keeping to yourself, but everything changes when you get drawn into the lively world of the charming soccer captain, Chan, who makes your heart race. As you’re pulled into his circle, you find friendship, laughter, and growing feelings. Through ups and downs, you discover confidence, belonging, and the joy of letting others in.

pairing: soccer captain!chan × afab!reader genre: au university, strangers → lovers rating: pg wc: 14k tw: [brief themes of insecurity and isolation, social anxiety] warnings: [slow burnnnn, losers in love, not-so-funny comedy, seven very involved team members, tooth rotting fluff]

a/n: guys! thank you for the love on my first fic! i did a poll and everyone wanted smut, however, there were a few who wanted just fluff, so i will deliver both. part 2 is in the works, but this fic can stand alone if you don't wish to read smut. tysm for reading!

ᝰ.ᐟ This has been revamped by yours truly 1/10/25 <3

: ̗̀➛ part one | part two | part three >> ੈ✩‧₊˚ masterlist ੈ✩‧₊˚ message me! ੈ✩‧₊˚

You hear them before you see them: the soccer team.

Changbin, the junior captain, is the loudest.

You spot eight of the twenty-player team heading your way. Next to Changbin, Hyunjin laughs at whatever the shorter guy says. Behind them, Minho and Jisung argue like an old couple. Seungmin walks beside them, eyes glued to his phone. Jeongin, the youngest, and Felix talk quietly at the back. And then there’s Chan, the Head Captain and your long-time crush. You keep your head down as they pass in the cafeteria. They aren’t mean. In fact, they’re all frustratingly kind.

The soccer team was more than just a group of players. They moved together like a rhythm, a story unfolding on the field. Each one brought something special, making the field come alive. The top eight players stood out from the rest; everyone called them the Elite Eight.

Minho, their right back, played with grace and precision. His defense was as sharp as his gaze, and though he rarely showed emotion, each perfect move felt like a silent promise: nothing would slip past him.

Changbin, junior captain and striker, burned bright at the front; a force of pure determination. His shots carried power and feeling, and when he scored, it wasn’t just a goal; it was a heartbeat. The field pulsed with his fire. He would succeed Chan and Minho as Head Captain after they graduated.

On the left wing, Hyunjin moved like poetry: elegant, fluid, unpredictable. His every motion had a rhythm of its own, artistry disguised as athleticism. When he played, it felt less like a game and more like a performance you couldn’t look away from.

Jisung, the attacking midfielder, was the brains behind the magic. He was quick, clever, and always creative, seeing plays before they even happened. His passes told their own stories: unexpected, innovative, and memorable.

In the goal stood Felix, the team’s quiet guardian. As a goalkeeper, he carried the weight of every final chance with unwavering calm. His voice guided the field, his smile steadied nerves. When pressure rose, his presence alone was enough to restore belief.

Seungmin, the center back, anchored the defense with calm strength. His movements were clean and careful, never rushed or wasted. He was the team’s balance, their quiet wall when things got tough.

And Jeongin, the right winger, was all energy. He never seemed to tire, and his runs were full of joy and confidence. His passion was honest, like he played for the love of the game, not just to win. He was the youngest on the team, still a freshman. He tried out the summer before and made it easily, a real prodigy.

Then there was Chan, the captain and central midfielder. He was the heart of the team. He led with a warmth that reached everyone, his voice calm and confident, his smile always seeming to be just for you. He made every player feel seen and important. Sometimes, you found yourself watching him longer than you meant to, noticing things that had nothing to do with soccer: the focused look on his face, the quiet laugh he tried to hide, the way sunlight caught his raven hair. There was something steady, kind, and quietly magnetic about him that made it hard not to care.

After eating, you grab your things and head to class, the one you share with Chan and Minho. When you walk in, Chan is already in his usual spot, a few rows back, talking quietly with Minho. As you enter, Chan looks up and gives you a soft smile. Minho notices and grins at you. You smile back, not thinking much of it. You didn’t really talk to the soccer team, except for Jeongin, who you tutored, but they were always polite and would say good morning in the halls.

Minho nudges Chan and whispers something that makes Chan shake his head. They both watch as you take your seat a few rows ahead. The professor starts the lecture, but Chan keeps glancing at you—watching your focused look, the way you bite your lip when you take notes. Minho notices and smirks.

You don’t know it, but Chan has liked you since sophomore year. The whole team doesn’t know, but the Elite Eight do, and they tease him about it whenever they can. He doesn’t mean to notice you so much; it just happens. Maybe it’s the way you always sit by the library window, surrounded by notebooks and color-coded pens. Or perhaps it’s the way you tuck your hair behind your ears when you’re lost in thought, not realizing anyone is watching. Either way, Chan finds himself lingering longer than he should whenever he passes by.

You weren’t loud or looking for attention; actually, you were the opposite. You had a quiet presence that drew him in without effort. Your long, dark brown hair always fell over your shoulders, and when you laughed softly at something in your book, it made his chest feel tight. He’d seen lots of people cheer for him from the stands, but no one ever looked at him the way you looked at the world—with focus, care, and a gentle way he couldn’t explain.

Sometimes after practice, he’d go to the library, saying he needed to review film or check his grades. Really, he just hoped to see you there, focused and sitting under the warm light of a desk lamp. He’d sit a few tables away, pretending to work, but always sneaking glances when you brushed your hair aside or bit your lip while reading.

He didn’t know you well; he only knew your name. But he could tell you wore your heart quietly—in your gentle smile and the way you seemed to have your own world. For some reason, Chan wanted to be part of that world, even if just for a moment.

During a break between classes, Chan is walking alone in the hallway when he sees you turn the corner ahead. His heart skips a beat, a feeling he’s gotten used to but that still feels strong. You’re scrolling through your phone, not noticing him. Without thinking, he walks a little faster to catch up behind you. The light, sweet scent of your perfume drifts back to him, making his stomach flip.

Suddenly, Minho shows up next to Chan with an amused grin. “Stalking, are we?” he asks, bumping shoulders with him. He respects Chan as captain on the field, but as a friend, he loves to tease him.

Chan’s face turns bright red as he glances nervously at Minho, then quickly looks back at you ahead. He shoves Minho’s arm and mutters, "Shut up, would you? I was just walking." Still, his eyes keep drifting back to you.

Minho laughs and leans in, whispering just loud enough for Chan to hear, "Walking behind her like a lost puppy? Classic stalker move."

You hear voices and footsteps behind you, so you turn to see the two boys. They notice, smiling and waving. You smile and wave back, a little nervous, then turn around again.

Chan stops walking and watches you go, giving Minho another slap on the arm. “Great, now she thinks we’re weird.”

Minho laughs, rubbing his arm. "Well, if you didn't act like a lovesick puppy every time she's around, maybe I wouldn’t have to say anything." He smirks, knowing he’s getting to him.

Chan rolls his eyes but can’t help smiling a little.

The field lights had dimmed hours ago, but Chan was still sitting on the bleachers, elbows resting on his knees, lost in thought. Most of the team had gone home, except Changbin, who came jogging back from the locker room with two water bottles and a grin that said he was up to no good.

He tosses one to Chan. “You look like you’re trying to solve world peace with that face, hyung.”

Chan catches the bottle and laughs softly. “Just thinking through a few plays.”

“Plays from practice,” Changbin asks, “or plays from the library?”

Chan groans. “Don’t start.”

“What? I’m just saying!” Changbin plops down next to him, his grin widening. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time near the study hall lately. And don’t even try to say it’s for ‘quiet focus’. You, of all people?”

Chan sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Changbin says, leaning in, “but I’m also right. Y/N, huh?”

Chan freezes for half a second, glancing over with a wary smile. “You’ve been paying attention.”

"You start to pay attention when your captain turns into a nervous freshman every time a certain someone walks by.” Changbin laughs, shaking his head. “You’ve got it bad.”

Chan tries to protest, but the words came out softer than he meant. “She’s different, Bin. She’s quiet, but not in a cold way. Just…thoughtful. She listens more than she talks. I like that about her.”

Changbin’s grin fades into something gentler. “You really like her.”

Chan chuckles, staring out at the empty field. “Yeah. I do.”

Changbin claps him on the back, standing. “Then what are you doing sitting here? Talk to her, man. You lead eleven guys across the field every week, you can handle one girl with a notebook.”

Chan shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not,” Changbin says, flashing that big grin again. “But you’re Bang Chan. You make hard things look easy.”

He jogs off toward the parking lot, leaving Chan alone beneath the glow of the stadium lights. Heart steady, mind full of your smile, and maybe, finally, the courage to say something to you.

The library is quiet, filled with the faint rustle of pages and the low hum of the air vents. You’re in your usual spot: the corner table by the window, notebook open, scribbling notes with full concentration.

Chan spots you before he even makes it through the door. He told himself he was just passing through. Checking in on Jeongin’s tutoring session schedule, maybe grabbing a coffee from the vending machine nearby. But the truth is simpler. He wants to see you again.

He hesitates for a second before walking over, his pulse oddly louder than his footsteps. “Hey,” he says softly, stopping a few feet away so he doesn’t startle you.

You look up, surprised but polite. “Oh—hi.” Your voice is quiet, like the library itself. Warm but cautious.

He smiles a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re Y/N, right? Jeongin’s tutor?”

That makes you blink, then nod. “Yeah. You’re Chan, right? From the soccer team?” You ask, as if you weren’t stalking his Instagram profile for a new update just ten minutes ago.

“Yeah,” he says, laughing quietly. “Jeongin talks about your sessions a lot. Said you actually got him to enjoy math, which I didn’t think was possible.”

That earns him a small laugh—soft, but real. “He’s sweet. A little distracted sometimes, but he tries.”

Chan sits down across from you when you gesture for him to do so. “Yeah, that sounds like him. He’s a good kid. You’ve probably saved his GPA.”

“Oh, don’t know about that,” you say shyly, looking down at your notes. “He does all the work.”

Chan leans forward a little, elbows on the table. “Still, tutoring him takes patience. You must have a lot of it.”

You smile at that, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just like helping people understand things. It’s nice when something finally clicks for them, you know?”

“I get that,” he says, voice softer now. “It’s kind of like anything in life, actually. You spend hours trying to get something right, and when it finally works, it just clicks.”

Your eyes meet his then, and he feels it. That tiny, wordless connection that stretches between you like a held breath.

“Maybe that’s why Jeongin likes learning from you,” Chan adds gently. “You make things feel easy. Even when they’re not.”

Your cheeks warm, but you smile. "I think that’s supposed to be your job, Captain.”

He laughs, quiet and genuine, the kind of sound that drew glances from the nearby tables. “Maybe we’re both teaching him something, then.”

The conversation falls into a comfortable rhythm after that—light, easy, natural. You discuss exams, practice, and favorite study snacks. Every time you speak, Chan finds another reason to stay.

When he finally stands to leave, he catches you looking up from your notes again, eyes soft and kind. “See you around, Y/N,” he says.

You smile, a little shy but certain. “Yeah. See you, Chan.”

As he walks out of the library, he realizes that maybe Changbin was right. It wasn’t as hard as he’d imagined.

Jeongin sits slouched over his notebook, pencil tapping the edge of the page as he tries to focus on the formulas you had written out for him. The late afternoon sun pours through the library window, catching in your hair and, unfortunately for his concentration, catching the attention of his captain, too.

Chan leans against the nearby bookshelf, pretending to scroll through his phone, though his eyes keep flicking toward the table. “You two working hard, or just pretending to?”

Jeongin jumps a little, twisting in his seat. “Hyung! What are you doing here?”

Chan smiles, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Library’s public, isn’t it? Thought I’d stop by. Maybe learn a thing or two.”

You look up, amusement tugging at your lips. “You sure you’re in the right place? This isn’t the gym.”

He grins, walking over and pulling out the chair beside Jeongin. “I’m more than just a dumb jock, you know.”

Jeongin groans, muttering under his breath. “This is going to be a long session.”

You bite back a laugh and turn the page toward Jeongin. “Alright, focus. Let’s go over the problem again.”

As you explain the steps, Chan quietly watches the way your hand moves when you point to the numbers, the soft lilt of your voice, the slight crease between your brows when you concentrate. You notice after a minute, glancing up at him.

“You’re staring,” you say softly.

He doesn’t even try to deny it. “Just impressed. You make it look easy.”

Your cheeks warm, but you manage to keep your tone steady. “That’s the point. Jeongin’s the one who’s supposed to be learning, not you.”

“I learn fast,” he says, leaning a little closer, that familiar teasing glint in his eyes. “Maybe I should book a session too.”

Jeongin groans louder this time, dropping his pencil. “Please don’t flirt over my homework.”

You stifle a laugh while Chan looks over with mock innocence. “Flirt? I was asking for academic support.”

“Right,” Jeongin says flatly. “Because you definitely care about calculus.”

Chan grins, his eyes crinkling. “Hey, maybe I do. What do you say, Y/N?”

That earns him a quiet laugh from you. The kind that makes his chest tighten. You shake your head, trying to focus again. “You’re going to get him off track.”

“I think you already did,” Jeongin mutters, but there was a teasing smile tugging at his mouth now.

By the time the session ends, Jeongin has somehow finished most of his worksheet, and you’re gathering your notes. Chan reaches for your book before you can, then hands it to you with a small smile. “Guess you really do have a gift, Y/N.”

You smile back, eyes soft. “Guess so.”

Jeongin stands, backpack slung over one shoulder, watching the way Chan lingers for just a second longer than necessary. “I’ll, uh…I’ll go wait by the door,” he says pointedly.

When Jeongin leaves, Chan rubs the back of his neck, that easy confidence melting into something gentler. “Sorry if I distracted you guys.”

“You did,” you tease, smiling. “But it wasn’t entirely a bad thing.”

Chan’s heart stutters. “Good to know.”

He holds your gaze for a moment. A quiet, lingering second full of things neither of you says. Then he smiles, a warm and slightly shy expression. “See you around, tutor.”

Your lips curve into a small grin. “See you, Captain.”

As the weeks go by, Chan finds himself making more frequent trips to the library, always timing them to coincide with Jeongin's tutoring sessions. He'd sit in the background, pretending to study or scroll through his phone, but his attention was always on you. Your patient explanations, gentle smiles when Jeongin got something right, the way you bite your pencil when you were concentrating...

It was becoming an addiction.

The campus gallery buzzes softly with music and conversation, the low hum of students and faculty drifting through the white-walled room. Paintings line every surface—vivid colors and brushstrokes that catch the light like motion frozen in time.

You were trying to get out of the house and do something around campus. Rotting in bed was only entertaining for so long. You had seen a few flyers for a student art exhibition at the gallery and decided to take a look.

You move slowly from piece to piece, clutching a small brochure in one hand. You hadn’t realized the new exhibition was Hwang Hyunjin’s, from the soccer team, not until you saw his name printed neatly on the corner of a title card.

Hwang Hyunjin — Form & Motion

You blink, impressed.

As you stroll through, you take in his beautiful collection. It was deep and personal.

One painting in particular makes you stop. The colors are muted gold and deep blue. A lone figure on a field, head bowed, surrounded by motion but somehow still. The brushstrokes were rougher, more deliberate. The plaque beneath it read:“Captain.”

You tilt your head, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Captain…”

“You like that one?”

You turn to find Hyunjin beside you, hands tucked into his pockets. He was dressed in a black shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to show paint stains near his wrists. His posture was easy but aware, shoulders relaxed, as if he’d spent the night both creating and cleaning up after his creations.

“It’s beautiful,” you say honestly. “He looks…peaceful. Strong, but tired.”

He chuckles softly. “Yeah. He’s my captain.”

“Bang Chan?”

Hyunjin’s grin deepens. “You know him.”

“Kind of,” you say quickly, a little flustered. “I tutor Jeongin, so I see him around sometimes.”

“Ah,” Hyunjin says knowingly. “The library girl.”

Your head shoots up. “Wait, what?”

He laughs, light and unbothered, the kind of laugh that said he wasn’t teasing to embarrass you, just amused by the whole thing. “He talks about you. Not obsessively, but enough that the rest of us noticed.”

You blink. “He…talks about me?”

Hyunjin tilts his head slightly, studying you the same way he probably studies his canvases. “He does that thing where he pretends he’s not saying anything important, but the way his voice changes gives him away. It’s kind of cute, honestly.”

You blush. “I didn’t think he noticed me that much.”

“He notices more than you think,” Hyunjin says gently, a small smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “He just hasn’t figured out what to do about it yet.”

You look back at the painting. The quiet strength, the warmth under all that calm. It really did look like Chan.

Hyunjin follows your gaze, his tone soft but amused. “You should come to one of our games sometime. I think he’d stop pretending if he knew you were watching.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head. “I’m not sure I’m that important.”

“I beg to differ,” Hyunjin says, grinning.

When he turns to greet another student, you stay there a moment longer, eyes lingering on the painting. You wonder what it might be like to see him the way Hyunjin does. Not from a quiet table in the library, but under the floodlights, where the rest of the world fell away.

Practice had ended a little late, the field lights already buzzing against the evening sky. The team was packing up, voices fading under the sound of cleats scraping the turf.

Hyunjin lingers near the bench, flipping his water bottle absentmindedly, waiting for just the right moment. Chan’s stuffing his gear into his duffel when Hyunjin finally says it, almost too casually: “So Y/N came to the gallery.”

Chan freezes mid-zip. “What?”

Hyunjin bites back a grin. “My art exhibition. She was there. Looked like she came alone, too.”

Chan’s pulse quickens before he can stop it. “Really?”

“Mmhm.” Hyunjin leans against the bench, watching him with that serene, all-knowing expression that drives Chan crazy. “She spent a while looking at the painting of you.”

Chan blinks. “Painting of me?”

“You know, the one titled ‘Captain.’” Hyunjin smirks. “She liked it. Said you looked strong and peaceful.”

That last word made something warm bloom in Chan’s chest. He tries to suppress the small smile tugging at his lips, but Hyunjin sees it immediately.

“Oh no,” Hyunjin says dramatically. “He’s smiling. That’s it, folks. Our fearless leader is in deep.”

“Stop,” Chan says, trying to sound firm but failing, because his ears were already pink. “You’re reading too much into it.”

“I’m literally quoting her,” Hyunjin says, laughing. “And I told her she should come to a game sometime.”

“Hyun,” Chan groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did.” Hyunjin’s grin is pure mischief now. “She laughed, by the way. The soft kind. You’d like it.”

Chan tries to glare at him, but the corners of his mouth betray him again. “You’re impossible.”

Hyunjin shrugs. “Maybe. But you should thank me when she shows up at the next match.”

Chan slings his duffel over his shoulder, shaking his head, but there was a quiet light in his eyes now, a hopeful glimmer he couldn’t quite hide. “You really think she will?”

Hyunjin’s voice softens. “Yeah. She looked like she wanted to.”

Chan doesn’t say anything after that. He just smiles to himself as they start walking back toward the dorms, the sound of cleats tapping the pavement.

And somewhere between the field and the parking lot, the thought settles in his chest. Not heavy, but warm.

If you really come, he wants to play his best game yet.

The café just off campus was half-full and quiet enough for you to study, but noisy enough not to feel alone. You had your laptop open, coffee half-drunk, notes spread across the small table.

You didn’t notice them at first—Minho and Jisung. Both still in their practice gear, backpacks slung over their shoulders, laughing about something as they walk in.

Jisung is the first to spot you. “Wait, isn’t that Jeongin’s tutor?”

Minho follows his gaze, his expression instantly sharpening with recognition. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “That’s her. Well, and—,” Minho starts before Jisung interrupts him.

Jisung’s grin spreads. “She’s cute.”

Minho doesn’t say anything, just sips his drink with a small, knowing smirk.

“Should I...?” Jisung starts.

“You’re really gonna flirt with her?” Minho cuts in flatly. “In broad daylight?”

“Why not?” Jisung says, feigning innocence. “I’m charming. It’s a gift.”

Minho rolls his eyes but doesn’t stop him, partly because this was going to be entertaining.

Jisung saunters over, a bright grin in place, and leans just slightly toward your table. “Hey, sorry to interrupt, but aren’t you the one tutoring our Jeongin?”

You look up, blinking in mild surprise. “Oh, uh—yeah. That’s me.”

“Thought so,” Jisung says, smiling widely. “I’m Jisung. You probably know me from the team. Or maybe you’ve seen me in your dreams. I get that a lot.”

That makes you laugh softly. “You’re confident.”

“Just honest,” he says with a wink. “You ever tutor anyone else? Because my grades could definitely use saving.”

Before you can respond, Minho appears beside him, calm and composed, sipping from his iced Americano. It was painful how the exchange was turning out, and he decided his entertainment was over.

“She’s not available,” Minho says.

Jisung blinks. “Huh?”

You frown a little, caught off guard. “I—yeah, sorry. Huh?”

Minho shrugs. “For tutoring. Or flirting.” He meets Jisung’s confused stare, then adds, “Ask Chan if you don’t believe me.”

It took Jisung half a second, then his eyes widened. “Wait—Chan? Our Chan?”

Minho nods slowly. “The one who smiles like an idiot whenever Y/N is mentioned. That one.”

Jisung’s jaw drops, then he turns back to you, flustered but sheepish. “Oh my god. I had no idea, I swear. Wow—okay, yeah, my bad.”

You were a blushing mess at the mention of the handsome boy. “Chan?”

Minho’s tone softens a little, almost fond. “Yeah. Captain’s got it bad.”

Jisung groans. “You could’ve told me before I made a fool of myself.”

Minho smirks. “I could have. But where’s the fun in that?”

You, still sitting there, are stunned and trying not to smile. “He likes me?”

Minho meets your gaze, sharp but kind. “Let’s just say, if you walked past practice, the whole team would suddenly ‘need a water break.’”

Jisung groans again, hiding his face in his hands. “I’m never living this down.”

You laugh, despite yourself.

“Guess we’ll see you at the next game, huh?” he says casually, and when you nod, Minho shoots Jisung a look over his shoulder.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “maybe don’t hit on the captain’s girl.”

Jisung groans louder, but you’re still smiling, heart beating a little faster than before.

Jisung started regretting every decision he’d made that day. He could already feel Minho’s smirk burning into the back of his head as they walked across the field.

Chan is packing up cones near the sideline when Minho calls out casually, “Hey, Captain. You’ll never guess who we ran into earlier.”

Chan glances up. “Who?”

Minho takes his time answering, unscrewing the cap of his water bottle like he was about to drop the most casual bomb in history. “Your favorite tutor.”

Chan smiles. “Y/N?”

Jisung groans. “Oh no, he’s down bad.”

Minho grins. “Yeah. We saw her at the café. Jisung said hi.”

Chan’s smile widens. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“It was…until Ji started flirting.”

Chan’s expression falters. “He what?”

“Hey!” Jisung cuts in quickly, waving his arms. “I didn’t know! He didn’t tell me she was the Y/N!”

Minho looks far too pleased with himself. “To be fair, it was funny. You should’ve seen her face when I told him she’s off-limits.”

Chan’s ears turn pink instantly. “Min…”

“What?” Minho says, all fake innocence. “I was doing you a favor. The whole ‘she has no idea you like her’ thing isn’t sustainable, you know.”

Jisung, still mortified, points at Minho. “He basically said it right in front of her! Now she knows,” he whispers, shaking his head at Minho.

Chan’s jaw drops. “You told her?”

Minho shrugs, “I said the captain’s got it bad. Which you do.”

Jisung groans again, dragging his hands down his face. “I’m never showing my face at the café again.”

Chan runs a hand through his hair, half exasperated, half panicking. “She—she knows? Like, knows knows?”

Minho nods, utterly unbothered. “Yep. But hey, she didn’t look upset. Actually, she smiled. Kind of in that shy, maybe-interested way.”

That makes Chan pause. “She smiled?”

Minho smirks. “Yeah. So if I were you, I’d stop glaring at me and start planning what you’re gonna say next time you see her.”

Jisung points dramatically at Minho. “He’s evil. Pure evil.”

“Effective,” Minho corrects.

Chan exhales, dragging a hand down his face, but the small, involuntary grin that follows doesn’t go unnoticed. “You two are the worst.”

“Maybe,” Minho says with a satisfied shrug. “But now you don’t have an excuse.”

Jisung huffs. “Next time you fall in love, I’m ratting you out instantly.”

Minho rolls his eyes. “Bold of you to assume I’ll be that obvious.”

Chan shakes his head, laughing softly despite himself. His heart was still racing—embarrassment, nerves, and something like hope all tangled together.

He looks toward the empty stands, lost in thought. “She smiled, huh?”

“Totally did,” Minho says, voice softening just a little. “So maybe stop waiting for the perfect moment. You’ve already got her attention.”

It’s a bright Wednesday afternoon, the kind of day when campus buzzes with easy laughter and the smell of coffee. Felix and Seungmin are walking across the quad, Felix’s hoodie half-zipped and a cookie in his hand, Seungmin carrying both of their iced Americanos because Felix was too cold to carry his.

They’re halfway to the library when Felix stops abruptly.

“Wait,” he says, voice dropping into a whisper that still somehow carries. “Isn’t that Y/N?”

Seungmin doesn’t bother following his gaze at first. “The Y/N who tutors Jeongin? Or the Y/N who has our captain in emotional distress?”

Felix grins. “Same Y/N.”

Seungmin looks up.

You were sitting under one of the big oak trees, books spread out around you, a few strands of dark hair tucked behind your ear. You looked peaceful—until Felix started walking toward you.

“Felix,” Seungmin sighs. “Don’t.”

“I’m just saying hi!”

“That’s what you said last time you accidentally invited a stranger to brunch.”

Felix ignores him, already approaching with his usual bright smile. “Hey! You’re Y/N, right?”

You look up, surprised but smiling politely. “Yeah…Felix, right? You’re on the soccer team.”

“Yeah! I’ve seen you around tutoring Jeongin.” Felix’s voice is warm and friendly. He had a way of making people instantly comfortable. “He says you’re basically the reason he passed his calculus test.”

You laugh softly. “He’s exaggerating, but I’m glad he did well.”

Seungmin arrives a moment later, dripping cups in hand, sipping on his. “She’s being modest. Jeongin’s been bragging about his grade like he scored the winning goal.”

You smile at that. “He works hard.”

Felix plops down in the grass beside you without hesitation. “We’re happy you helped him out. The team’s kinda like a family, you know? So anyone who helps one of us…” He pauses, eyes crinkling as he adds, “…is basically family, too.”

Seungmin groans quietly. “That’s the most Felix thing you’ve ever said,” he says before dropping down next to Felix, trying to hand him his dripping coffee.

Felix turns to him, ignoring the drink. “What? It’s true!”

You giggle, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “You guys really are close, huh?”

“Unfortunately,” Seungmin says.

Felix bumps his shoulder playfully. “Seungmin says that, but he loves us. Especially our captain.”

That gets your attention. “Chan?”

Felix nods enthusiastically. “He’s the best. Always looking out for everyone. You should see how focused he gets before games. It’s like he’s in his own world.”

Seungmin smirks faintly. “Usually because he’s thinking about something that’s not soccer.”

Felix glances at him, confused for a moment, then it clicks. “Ohhh.” His eyes sparkle. “Right. That something.”

You blink. “Something?”

Seungmin looks you straight in the eye, deadpan. “Someone. You.”

Felix almost chokes on air. “Seungmin!”

Your eyes widen, a deep flush creeping up your cheeks.

Felix scrambles to fix it. “He—he’s kidding! He’s joking! Right, Seungmin?”

Seungmin shrugs. “Depends. Are we pretending he doesn’t talk about her?”

“Seungmin!” Felix hisses, but he was grinning helplessly now.

Your hand comes up to hide your laugh, half shy and half disbelieving.

Felix groans. “I’m so sorry. He doesn’t have a filter.”

Seungmin takes a slow sip of his iced coffee. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Felix glares at him, but you just smile. A soft, surprised kind of smile. “You guys are very honest.”

Felix rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Maybe a little too honest.”

“It’s fine,” you say, and your voice is gentler than before. “I, um…I’ll definitely come to the game.”

Felix’s face lights up instantly. “Really? That’s awesome!”

Seungmin gives you a slight, approving nod. “Good. He plays better when he’s got something to impress.”

Felix nudges him. “You mean someone.”

Seungmin smirks. “Semantics.”

As the two boys walk off, Felix mutters, “You could’ve been a little more subtle.”

Seungmin’s reply is effortless. “Why? It worked.”

Felix pauses mid-step, then breaks into a grin. “Yeah, I guess it did.”

The sky was soft and gold, the air buzzing faintly with energy—the calm before the chaos of game night. You had just left the library, a stack of notes tucked under one arm as you headed toward your dorm.

You’re halfway down the path when a deep voice calls out behind you.

“Hey! Library girl!”

You turn, startled, then smile when you see Changbin jogging towards you, gym bag over his shoulder, black warmup jacket half-zipped.

“Changbin,” you say, smiling. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

He grins, slightly out of breath. “I am getting ready. Hydrated, stretched, emotionally stable…mostly.”

You laugh. “That last one sounds questionable.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, catching his breath, “you’re not wrong.” He gestures to your notes. “You still studying on game day? That’s dedication.”

You shrug. “It helps me relax.”

Changbin laughs. “You’re the only person I know who relaxes with textbooks.”

“Everyone’s got their thing,” you tease.

“True. Mine’s bench-pressing my emotions. Yours is academic excellence.”

That earns a laugh out of you. “Is that what you tell the team?”

“Pretty much,” Changbin says, then his grin softens. “But seriously, I’m glad you’re coming tonight.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “Who told you that?”

He gives you a pointed look. “You think Hyunjin keeps secrets? Please. The second you said yes, he ran and told Captain.”

You groan, covering your face. “Oh my God…”

Changbin laughs. “Don’t be embarrassed. You’ve made the whole team’s week. Especially a certain someone.”

You peek at him through your fingers. “You mean Chan.”

He smirks. “I mean Captain Hopeless. You should’ve seen him this morning. Pretending not to care, but polishing his cleats like they were made of gold. And he wore cologne. For a game.”

You blush, unable to hide your smile. “He’s ridiculous.”

“He is,” Changbin agrees easily, “but he’s also a good guy. Best one I know, actually.” His voice softens a little as he adds, “You make him really happy, you know? Even if he doesn’t say it.”

You blink. “He says that?”

Changbin shrugs, but there is warmth in his grin. “Not in words. But you can tell. He’s lighter. Less tense. Like he’s got something to look forward to.”

You look down, cheeks warm. “That’s really sweet.”

Changbin smiles at you, not teasing this time, just kind. “He deserves someone who sees him the way you do. And between us…” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “I think he’s a little gone for you.”

Your laugh comes out quiet and flustered. “You guys are all terrible at keeping secrets.”

“Team unity,” Changbin says with a grin. “We share everything. Especially when it’s adorable.”

You shake your head, smiling. “You’re incorrigible.”

He shrugs again. “Maybe. But tonight, when you see him look at you from across the field, you’ll understand why we’re all rooting for him.”

Your heart skips at that, warmth blooming beneath your ribs. “You’re worse than Hyunjin.”

“Hey, I’m the junior captain. Matchmaking’s part of my leadership training.”

You laugh, and Changbin smiles, clearly satisfied. “Anyway,” he says, stepping back a little, “you should go get ready. Wear something comfortable, and consider bringing a sweater. It gets cold up in the stands.”

“Thanks, Changbin,” you say softly.

He grins, backing away with an easy wave. “Don’t thank me yet. If he scores tonight, I’m taking full credit.”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop smiling as he jogs off toward the field, his laughter fading into the golden hour.

For a long moment after, you stand there, clutching your notes to your chest, heart fluttering with a nervous kind of hope.

The stadium is electric, packed with cheering fans, flashing cameras, and the low hum of anticipation.

The team is warming up, their cleats clicking against the turf as they line up for kickoff. Chan stands at the center, captain’s armband snug on his bicep, eyes scanning the crowd.

The stadium lights glow bright against the night sky, painting the field in gold and white. The hum of excitement is everywhere; music pulsing through the speakers, students filing into the stands, the faint scent of turf and popcorn hanging in the air.

You clutch your sweater tighter, your heart racing a little faster than you want it to. You aren’t sure what you’re more nervous about: watching the game for the first time or knowing who you’re here for.

Jeongin had texted you earlier to make sure you were still coming.

Innie (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) : Come early for a good seat, Noona. Promise you’ll cheer loudly!

And now, here you are, tucked a few rows up near the center, eyes scanning the field where the team is warming up under the floodlights.

You spot Felix first—blonde hair, sunshine energy, and laughing at something Seungmin said. Then Minho, effortlessly graceful even while stretching. Changbin is barking encouragement, voice carrying easily across the grass.

But when your gaze finally lands on Chan, your breath catches.

He’s near midfield, talking with the coach, strands of raven hair falling in his eyes. Even from a distance, he looks calm and focused, but there’s a warmth to him that makes your chest tighten.

You don’t realize you’re staring until someone on the field notices you. Felix.

He freezes mid-sentence, then his face lights up. He elbows Jeongin so hard that the younger nearly drops his water bottle.

“Hyung, what—?”

Felix points toward the stands, grinning wide. “She’s here.”

Jeongin follows his gaze, and his grin matches Felix’s instantly. “Told you she’d come!”

Seungmin, ever the observer, looks up next. “Oh, this is going to be so good."

Within seconds, the message had traveled down the team like wildfire.

Changbin cups his hands around his mouth. “Yah! Captain!”

Chan turns, confused. “What?”

Felix’s voice joins in, louder this time. “Look who’s here!”

Chan’s brows furrow. But then his gaze follows their pointing hands. And the moment he sees you, everything else—the noise, the lights, the movement—seems to blur.

You wave, a little shyly, but smiling.

And Chan, the second he recognizes your pretty face, shifts completely. His surprise melts into something so soft, so unguarded, that even his teammates pause.

Felix clutches his heart dramatically. “Oh, he’s gone.”

Seungmin smirks. “Captain’s blushing. Mark your calendars.”

Chan tries to school his expression, but his ears are already pink. He gives you a small, awkward wave, the kind that says ‘Hi, I’m trying to act normal, but I’m failing miserably.’

You laugh quietly, waving back, your own cheeks warm.

Changbin jogs past him, clapping him on the shoulder. “Focus, Romeo. Game first, confession later.”

Chan groans, half-laughing. “You guys are impossible.”

“Yeah,” Minho calls from across the field. “But we’re rooting for you!”

The whistle blows then, sharp and bright, calling the team into formation. Chan adjusts his armband, takes a deep breath, and when he looks up again, you’re still watching him.

He smiles. Just barely; small, quiet, but full of everything he couldn’t say yet.

The game is intense. Back and forth the ball goes, both teams playing aggressively. Chan is everywhere at once, his captaincy shining through every pass and strategic call. He scores the opening goal in the first half, a powerful header that sends the crowd into a frenzy. Jeongin assists him perfectly. Cheers echo under the lights, the rhythmic chant of the crowd blending with the sound of cleats tearing through turf.

You hadn’t been to many games before. Okay, any game. But sitting there now, you finally understood why people got so swept up in it. The energy was contagious, the tension addictive.

Your eyes hardly ever leave Chan.

He moves across the field with easy command, calling out plays, gestures sharp but calm. Even under pressure, there was something composed about him; focused and grounded. The kind of quiet authority that made people follow without question.

“Number 8!” someone shouts from behind you—Chan’s number. The chant picks up, louder this time.

“Bang Chan! Bang Chan!”

You smile, your chest tightening with pride you couldn’t quite explain.

Midway through the first half, Chan catches the ball off a slick pass from Hyunjin. Two defenders close in fast, but he cuts left. Swift, effortless. He sends one spinning past him before setting up the perfect line toward the goal.

The crowd surges to its feet, you included, your breath catching in your throat.

And then.

Score.

The sound that followed was deafening—a roar of voices, the echo of his teammates yelling his name. Chan turns toward the stands instinctively, adrenaline pumping through his veins, and that’s when he sees you.

Still standing. Cheering with hands cupped around your face.

Something in his chest tugs loose, and for a moment, he forgets the noise, the lights, everything but you.

Changbin jogs up beside him, sweaty and out of breath, clapping him hard on the back. “Knew you’d score first! Must be the cologne.”

Chan shoots him a look, but he’s grinning, breathless. “Shut up.”

“Wave to her, man,” Hyunjin calls from across the field, smirking. “You earned it.”

Chan rolls his eyes, but does it anyway. He looks straight at you, gives you a little grin, and—God help him—winks.

Your eyes widen, lips parting in surprise, before you quickly look away, cheeks blazing.

Felix catches it from the sidelines and howls with laughter. “Oh, he’s flirting!”

Seungmin cups his hands around his mouth. “Focus, Captain! This isn’t a drama!”

Chan just shakes his head, still smiling, before jogging back toward formation. But his pulse hasn’t calmed. Not even close.

Every time he glances up, even when he tries not to, his eyes find you again. The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you get shy. The way you bite back a grin whenever he looks your way. It was dangerous how easily he got distracted by you. But it was also the best he’d felt all season.

By halftime, the score was 2–0. Chan had another assist, Hyunjin danced through two defenders like it was nothing, and the whole team was vibrating with energy. Still, when the whistle blows, Chan’s gaze drifts to the stands again. You’re clapping this time, smile soft and proud, and he feels it hit him all over again.

Hyunjin jogs past, snickering. “You play better when she’s watching. Should we get her season tickets?”

Chan laughs, dimples showing. “Don’t start.”

“Start? Oh no,” Hyunjin says with mock seriousness. “This is fuel.”

The final whistle blows, and the crowd explodes. The scoreboard flashes 3–1, the team’s victory sealed under the glow of the floodlights. You’re on your feet before you even realize it, clapping, cheering, heart pounding so hard it feels like you’d been the one running the field. Around you, the stands were alive with celebration, students chanting the team’s name.

But your eyes are only on one person.

He stands near midfield, hair damp with sweat, grinning as his teammates swarm him. Changbin shouts something triumphant as he rips his jersey off and swings it. Felix jumps on Chan’s back, and Hyunjin spins like a maniac. It was chaos, but an amazing kind of chaos.

Chan turns toward the stands again, scanning instinctively for you, and when he finds you, that same smile curves across his face. He lifts a hand, waves once, and sends you that same playful wink from before.

You feel your stomach flip, but before you can even react, the two girls sitting behind you squeal.

“Oh my God, did he just wink at us?” one says, clutching her friend’s arm.

“Stop, he totally did! The captain just winked at you!”

You blink, halfway turning around. “Oh, um—”

“He’s looking right this way!” the other girl insisted, practically glowing. “You have to wave back!”

You freeze, caught between laughing and dying of secondhand embarrassment.

But it’s too late. The girls wave enthusiastically, giggling.

Chan, still watching the same section, frowns slightly in confusion, and then realization dawns. His eyes flick between you and the girls behind you. And just like that, he laughs. Not a big, showy laugh, but one of those quiet, breathy ones that make his whole face soften. He shakes his head a little, like he couldn’t believe his luck, then points, very deliberately, towards you.

The girls gasp. “Wait—he meant her?”

You feel your cheeks go up in flames. You give a tiny, bashful wave, and Chan grins wide and boyish this time, before turning to rejoin the team.

“Girl, what the heck,” one of the girls whispers. “You know Bang Chan?”

“Kind of,” you manage, laughing shyly. “It’s a long story.”

“Okay, but he’s totally into you.”

Your only answer was a nervous little laugh as you tug your sweater closer, heart racing in your chest.

Down on the field, the team is still buzzing with energy. Felix is already pulling out his phone for selfies, Hyunjin has somehow acquired a flag to wave, and Changbin is shouting, “Told you the cologne worked!”

Chan groans but is too happy to care.

When the coach dismisses them, Chan doesn’t even hesitate. He scans the crowd until he spots you making your way down the rickety stand. You meet him halfway near the edge of the fence, still smiling, though your cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, or maybe something else.

“You were amazing,” you say excitedly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Congratulations.”

He pulls himself up so he’s level with you and leans against the railing, grin easy and warm. “You came. Guess you’re my good luck charm.”

Your laugh comes out quietly. “The girls behind me thought you were flirting with them.”

That earns a genuine laugh from him; low, breathy, with that crinkle near his eyes. “I saw. I’ll have to fix that next time,” he says, gaze lingering on yours. “Make it a little more obvious who I’m winking at.”

Your breath hitches, and for a heartbeat, neither of you says anything. The noise of the stadium fades to a dull hum around them.

Then, from behind him—

“Captain, stop flirting and get your picture taken!” Felix yells, waving the team’s banner like an overexcited kid.

Chan sighs, jumping down. “I’ll be back.”

You laugh softly. And when you blush, looking down at your hands, he swears the victory had never felt so good.

The team had taken over their favorite spot once again. It was a cozy pizza place just off campus, its walls plastered with trophies, jerseys, and photos of past wins. Someone had already ordered too many pizzas, Felix was playing music from a tiny speaker, and half the team was still in warmups.

You hadn’t expected to end up here. You’d been halfway back through the entrance when Jeongin had spotted you and practically dragged you along.

“Team tradition!” he’d said, grinning from ear to ear. “Besides, Chan would kill me if I saw you and didn’t extend the invitation.”

Now you sit at the end of a long table, laughing quietly as chaos unfolds around you. Changbin is dramatically retelling one of the goals, using salt shakers to reenact player positions. Hyunjin adjusts his angles as if it were an art critique. Seungmin snickers, holding a slice of pizza like a microphone for commentary. And Chan…Chan sits across from you, cheeks flushed from the game and the noise, but his smile hasn’t dimmed all night.

Felix notices where he’s looking first. “Okay, okay, before Captain Love Eyes gets all shy—”

“Don’t start,” Chan says immediately, but it was too late.

Felix turns to you. “I helped get you here tonight, right, Y/N?”

You blink, amused. “Well...”

“It was a team effort,” Hyunjin says, leaning on his palm, raising his eyebrow. “And technically, I invited Y/N first.

“I was the one who convinced you, though,” Jeongin points out proudly.

Changbin scoffs. “You wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t mention she was coming.”

“Correction,” Hyunjin says, raising a hand. “If I hadn’t told Chan that she liked his painting, none of this would’ve happened.”

“Oh, here we go,” Minho mutters.

Felix chimes in cheerfully, “I’m the one who spotted her in the stands first!”

Hyunjin smiles at him softly, patting his head. “Yes, you did. Good job, Lixie.” Felix beams.

“Yeah,” Seungmin says, smirking. “And immediately made it everyone’s problem.”

The table bursts into laughter.

You cover your face, smiling despite yourself. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or scared.”

“Flattered,” Changbin says firmly. “We’re the best wingmen you’ll ever meet.”

Chan grumbles.

Jeongin leans in with a grin. “Just admit it, hyung. We did good.”

Chan looks at you, laughing now, bright and unguarded, and something in his chest softens. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “You did good.”

The others erupt in whoops and mock cheers. Felix throws a napkin like confetti, Hyunjin declares it “a win for romance,” and Changbin demands credit be shared equally among “Team Cupid.” When the laughter finally dies down, the table falls into easy conversation again: stories, jokes, and the kind of warmth that only comes after a shared victory.

You find yourself talking quietly with Chan amid the noise, your voices naturally soft in contrast to the surrounding chaos.

“You really were amazing tonight,” you say, picking at your straw wrapper. “I’ve never seen you play before.”

He smiles, a little sheepish. “Guess I had good motivation.”

You blush. “You mean the trophy?”

He shakes his head. “Nah.” His eyes found yours, warm and sure.

Your heart skips, but before you could say anything, Felix shouts from down the table, “They’re flirting again! Someone take a picture!”

“Felix!” Chan groans, throwing a balled-up napkin at him.

Laughter breaks out all over again, but you’re smiling too, cheeks still pink. And when Chan looks at you one more time, a quiet, meaningful glance that cuts through the noise, it feels like your own small celebration amid the madness.

Your group stays at the restaurant until the servers start giving them pointed looks. Pizzas had been devoured, stories shared, and laughter echoed off the walls. Outside, the night had deepened, stars peeking through the branches overhead.

"Come on," Changbin says, grabbing his jacket. "Let's head out before they kick us out." One by one, everyone gathers their things and shuffles out as the staff flips the closed sign over.

The night air is cool and still when they finally leave the pizza place. The rest of the team had peeled off in a noisy pack. Felix and Hyunjin arguing over music, Changbin mock-threatening to do push-ups in the street, and Seungmin pretending not to know them.

But Chan lingers behind.

“Hey,” he says softly when he sees you pulling your sweater tighter around your shoulders. “You’re headed to the dorms, right? I’ll walk you.”

You nod, trying and failing to keep your pulse steady.

Now, the two of you walk side by side down the quiet path cutting through campus. The lights glow warm and gold against the trees, footsteps soft against the pavement.

Neither of you speaks for a while, but it’s not awkward. It’s calm. Easy. The kind of silence that says we don’t have to fill this.

“You guys really are something,” you say finally, smiling at the memory of all their chaos. “I don’t think I’ve laughed that much in months.”

Chan chuckles. “Yeah, they’re a handful. But they mean well.”

“They really wanted to take credit for getting me to the game.”

“They can have it,” he says, kicking at a stray pebble. “As long as you were there.”

Your heart flutters. The air between you feels suddenly still, heavier, but in the best way.

You reach the entrance to your dorm, the building bathed in the soft glow of a nearby lamppost. You turn to face him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Thanks for walking me,” you say quietly.

“Of course.” He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. “I had fun tonight.”

“Me too.”

He hesitates, shifting his weight, then lets out a small, almost embarrassed laugh. “You know, I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for a while.”

Your heart thuds. “Say what?”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, eyes warm, steady, the same way they were on the field when he was about to take a shot.

“I like you, Y/N.” The words come out quiet but sure. “Not just ‘you’re nice to talk to’ like. I mean, really like you. And I was wondering if maybe you’d want to go out with me sometime.”

For a moment, the world seemed to blur. The sound of distant voices, the cool wind against your hair, the glow of the light between you.

Then you smile. Small at first, then gradually wider and brighter. “I’d like that.”

He blinks, almost like he didn’t believe it. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I like you, too.”

Chan’s grin breaks free then, wide and genuine, the kind that reaches his eyes. He lets out a small laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck again. “Wow. Okay. Um. Good. Great.”

You giggle. “You’re so smooth, Captain.”

“Don’t tell the team,” he says, laughing with you. “They’ll never let me live it down.”

“I think they already know.”

He groans playfully. “Yeah, they definitely do.”

There was a pause. Soft, almost shy. “Can I have your number?”

“Oh!” You quickly take your phone out and hand it over to him.

He smiles and adds his number in, texting himself. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Only if you promise not to flirt mid-game again,” you tease.

He grins. “No promises.”

You laugh, stepping back toward the door. “Goodnight, Chan.”

He gave you one last look—gentle, a little awestruck. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

And as you slip inside, heart racing, you could still feel his smile lingering in the air, warm as the glow of the stadium lights and just as unforgettable.

The next morning, sunlight spilled through the dorm windows, warm and golden against the perfectly organized soccer gear and neatly folded laundry on the bed.

Chan sits at his desk, hair still messy from sleep, and a grin he couldn’t seem to get rid of. You two had been texting back and forth since last night. His phone buzzes again.

Y/N 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 : You guys really are impossible, btw. I can’t believe Changbin took his jersey off and waved it around on the field lol

Chan ˙𐃷˙ : Yeahhhh, he does that every time we win. Don’t look too hard though hehe

Y/N 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 : Hmm. Are you monopolizing my gaze?

Chan ˙𐃷˙ : Very much so. Eyes on me only

He leans back in his chair, still smiling down at the screen like a total fool, when the door bursts open.

“Morning, lover boy!”

“Felix, what the—”

But Felix isn’t alone. Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jeongin trail in behind him, grinning like a pack of hyenas.

Chan just shakes his head and replies to your text. “You guys are unbelievable.”

Felix ignores him, flopping onto Chan’s bed. “Sooo how’d it go?”

Changbin smirks, crossing his arms. “Don’t play dumb, hyung. Jeongin saw you walk her home.”

“I told you!” Jeongin says, pointing triumphantly at Hyunjin. “I said he’d finally do it after the win!”

Hyunjin smiles at Jeongin, patting his knee. “You did Jeongin, good job,” he says as Innie just smiles widely and nods. Hyunjin turns to Chan. “So? You ask her out?”

Chan tries to hide his smile while looking down at your texts. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Felix gasps. “That means yes!”

“Wait, wait—” Changbin says, dramatically slamming a hand on the table. “Did she say yes?”

Chan finally looks up, fighting back a grin. “She did.”

A beat of silence, and then the room explodes.

Felix jumps off the bed with a cheer. Hyunjin whoops so loudly that someone probably hears it from down the hall. Jeongin fist-pumps like they’d just won another championship, while Changbin yells, “I KNEW IT! TEAM CUPID NEVER FAILS!”

Chan can only laugh, covering his face with one hand. “You guys are so dramatic.”

Felix leans against his shoulder, beaming. “We’re just proud! Our captain’s in love.”

“Not yet,” Hyunjin teases. “But give it, what, a week?”

Jeongin nods seriously. “Two dates, tops.”

Chan groans, but he can’t stop smiling. “You’re all ridiculous.”

Changbin raises an eyebrow. “It’s pronounced right, Captain.”

Chan rolls his eyes, which only makes them laugh harder.

Then his phone buzzes again.

Felix is the first to notice. “Ooh, is that Y/N?”

Chan quickly picks it up, trying to look casual. “None of your business.”

Hyunjin leans over his shoulder anyway. “It is her!”

Felix grabs a pillow and yells, “They’re official now! Someone make a banner!”

Chan shoves them off with a laugh, face turning bright red. “Out. All of you. Now.”

“Fine, fine!” Hyunjin says, backing toward the door. “But we’re celebrating soon. No excuses!”

As the door finally closes behind them, the noise fading down the hall, Chan sighs before chuckling to himself.

His phone buzzes one more time.

Y/N 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 : Good luck surviving your teammates today. I bet they’re being awful

Chan ˙𐃷˙ : You have no idea lol

Y/N 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 : You love them though <3

Chan ˙𐃷˙ : Yeah. I really do

Y/N 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 : See you later alligator?

Chan ˙𐃷˙ : In a while crocodile :p

He sets his phone down, that same stupid grin spreading across his face again. The season might’ve been far from over, but to Chan, it already felt like his best one yet.

It was the kind of afternoon that felt made for beginnings. Sunlight filtered through the trees, a light breeze carrying the smell of coffee and campus life.

You sit at a small outdoor café just off the quad, hands wrapped around your cup as you try not to check your phone for the fourth time in a minute.

You’d agreed to meet after his morning workout—casual, no pressure, but your heart hadn’t gotten the memo.

Your phone buzzes.

Chan ˙𐃷˙ : Just finished! Heading over now. Don’t leave 🥺

Y/N 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 : Wouldn’t dream of it 🤗

You smile down at the screen, lean back in your chair, and enjoy the beautiful weather. A few minutes pass before you hear hurried footsteps and a familiar voice behind you.

“Hey.”

You turn and there he is, hair still damp from his shower, hoodie slightly rumpled, that easy, warm grin already tugging at his lips.

“Hi,” you say, trying not to sound as flustered as you felt.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, slipping into the seat across from you. “Felix stopped me to ask if I needed ‘date tips.’”

You laugh. “Please tell me you didn’t take any.”

“Of course not.” He pauses. “Well…maybe one.”

“Oh no,” you tease. “What was it?”

He leans forward slightly, lowering his voice as if it were a secret. “Smile a lot. Apparently, you like that.”

Your cheeks warm. “He’s not wrong.”

Chan’s grin widens, dimples peeking out, proud but still boyish. “Good to know.”

You talk easily after that—classes, the next game, and how Jeongin nearly tripped over nothing that morning. Every now and then, your hands brush over the table, and each time, your stomach flutters. At one point, he reaches for his cup just as you reach for yours. Fingers brush, and neither of you pulls away immediately.

He looks up then—dark brown eyes catching yours—and smiles in that quiet, knowing way that made time slow down.

“I’m really glad you came to the game,” he says, voice gentle.

“Me too,” you admit. “I didn’t think I’d end up…here.”

“With me?”

You nod, smiling shyly. “With you.”

For a second, he just watches you. The sunlight glints off his chain, and his thumb taps absent-mindedly against his cup. Then he says, “For what it’s worth…I’ve been wanting this for a while.”

Your heart stutters. “Really?”

He laughs softly. “You have no idea. Every time I saw you in the library, I’d try to think of excuses to talk to you.”

“And yet Jeongin was the one who broke the ice,” you tease.

“Yeah,” he says, chuckling. “Guess I owe him big for that.”

You fall into another stretch of comfortable quiet, the kind where every small sound—the hum of the café, the rustle of leaves—feels softer somehow.

Then Chan reaches out, gently brushing his thumb against the back of your hand. “Can I…?”

You look up at him, smiling. “Yeah.”

Your fingers intertwine, tentative but sure. His hand was warm and steady, grounding in that way only he could be.

For once, he didn’t have to lead or command or plan a play. He just got to sit there with you, in the sunlight, both of you grinning like idiots.

Across the street, Felix and Hyunjin—very obviously pretending not to spy from a bench—high-five in victory. Their bucket hats and sunglasses don't disguise them, but they look cool as hell.

Chan notices them instantly and sighs. “They’re watching us, aren’t they?”

You follow his gaze and laugh. “They’re terrible at hiding.”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “I should be embarrassed, but honestly? You’ll get used to it.”

“Oh, I will?” You tease.

He looks back at you, eyes warm and sure, voice low. “You will.”

And somehow, despite the chaos of his team and the noise of campus life around you, it felt like the world had gone quiet. Just you two. Just this. A beginning that already felt like home.

A few weeks later, the afternoon sun hangs low over the practice field, painting everything in gold. The team winds down after drills, the sound of laughter echoing across the open space.

You stand by the fence, backpack slung over one shoulder, watching as Chan barks playful orders at his teammates. He looks completely in his element; confident, animated, with that easy smile tugging at his lips whenever the others crack jokes.

You hadn’t planned to stop by, but Seungmin and Felix had texted earlier in the group chat labeled:

MUTINY CHAT (NO CHANS ALLOWED)

Menace (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) : Hey, you should come by practice. Captain’s been smiling at his phone again.

Sunshine ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა :In other words, come fluster him.

So here you are.

Changbin notices you first. “Y/N! Look who finally came to watch us!”

Your face flushes, but you smile and give a small wave.

Chan’s head snaps up at the sound of your name. The grin that spread across his face was instant, boyish, and unguarded. “Hey!”

“Hi,” you say softly as he jogs over, his hair sticking up adorably from practice.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” he says, stopping a few feet away, still catching his breath.

“It wouldn't be as fun if I warned you.”

He chuckles, eyes softening as he takes you in. The wind tugs at your hair, and the shy curve of your smile makes his heart flutter. “Guess I can’t argue with that.”

Behind him, the team watches like hawks. Hyunjin elbows Felix, grinning.

Felix clasps his hands dramatically. “Our babies are thriving.”

“Focus!” Seungmin calls, though he was grinning. “Or don’t, this is better than drills.”

You both ignore the team, focused on each other. Chan looks down at you, his grin softening into something gentler. “Thanks for coming. Really.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you say, a little shy.

The others are pretending not to stare. Badly.

Chan hesitates, then leans in and presses a quick, warm kiss to your cheek.

The field erupts.

“OH MY GOD!” Felix squeals, voice shooting an octave higher.

“CAPTAIN’S IN LOVE!” Hyunjin yells.

Jeongin throws his arms in the air. “FINALLY!”

Changbin actually drops his water bottle. “CUTE!”

Your face is bright red, but you can’t stop smiling. Chan laughs, cheeks a little pink himself.

Felix cups his hands around his mouth. “DO IT AGAIN FOR THE CAMERAS!”

“NO CAMERAS!” Chan calls back, turning to glare half-heartedly.

You giggle. “You know, for someone who leads a whole team, you’re kind of terrible at damage control.”

He shrugs, still grinning. “Yeah, but at least I’m good at picking who to kiss.”

That makes you blush even deeper, which only sends the team into another round of cheers.

As the sun dips lower, the team eventually drifts back into drills, still teasing, still laughing, but Chan lingers for one more moment by your side, his voice quiet enough that only you could hear.

“See you after practice?”

You nod, eyes soft. “Yeah. I’ll wait.”

And with one last grin, he jogs back toward the field.

The game had ended hours ago, but the sound of the crowd still echoed faintly in Chan’s head. The campus is quiet now, the air cool against his skin as he walks side by side with you down the tree-lined path toward your dorm.

Streetlights cast pools of gold across the pavement, their shadows moving together in and out of the light.

“You played really well,” you say softly, glancing up at him. “That last goal was insane.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks. I, uh, might’ve been showing off a little.”

“For me?” You tease.

“Maybe,” he says with a small grin. “Did it work?”

You pretend to think about it, eyes glinting. “I guess it did.”

You fall into an easy quiet after that. Every so often, your shoulders brush, and each time it sends a small flutter through your chest. He takes your hand in his, making the fluttering even stronger. Chan steals glances at you—the way your hair catches the light, how your nose scrunches when you laugh. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of this view.

When you reach the dorm steps, you both stop, the soft hum of the night settling around you.

“Well,” you say quietly, “goodnight, Captain.”

He smiles, stepping a little closer. “You’re gonna start calling me that off the field too, huh?”

“I don’t know,” you say, voice light. “Depends. Do you like it?”

He tilts his head slightly, a grin tugging at his lips. “Coming from you? Yeah. I really do.”

Something in his tone makes your heart skip. The playful teasing softened into something tender, unspoken but heavy in the air between you.

He hesitates, searching your eyes. And then he leans in, slow and careful, and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. It was chaste, barely there, but it lingers just long enough to leave you breathless. When he pulls back, you both smile, a little dazed, a little shy.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

“Goodnight, Chan,” you say softly, the sound of his name feeling warmer than ever.

He lingers for a moment, hands tucked in his pockets, before finally turning to go…just to turn back around and walk up to you, and kiss you a little deeper this time around. His hands frame your face softly, gently, as if holding something so delicate before stepping back with a soft smile.

“Okay, bye for real,” he says, laughing softly, before turning and walking away...then turns to look at you again, not being able to resist a last look. You both laugh, catching the other staring. You watch him walk away, still smiling to yourself. And though the night air was cool, you felt nothing but warmth.

It had been a few weeks since that night under the dorm lights—a few weeks since the quiet kiss that turned into something real. Now, everyone knew.

You weren’t overly public. No heavy PDA or showy gestures. But Chan was clingy in the best way. His hand would always find yours on the table in the campus café. He’d walk you to every class he could, even if it made him late to his own. He’d drape his jacket over your shoulders before you could protest, tug gently on your backpack strap just to keep you close. And you didn’t mind. Not at all. It was grounding, the way he gravitated towards you, as if being near you helped him breathe more easily.

But lately, the attention had started to shift.

It started small with looks from people in lecture halls, whispers in the hallway, the occasional not-so-quiet comment.

“Why her?”

“She’s not even his type.”

“She’s just tutoring Jeongin—that’s probably how she got in.”

You pretended not to hear. But sometimes, the words stuck. They found little cracks in your confidence and stayed there no matter how hard you tried to shake them off.

You’re sitting on a bench outside the library one afternoon, half-lost in your thoughts, when Chan spots you from across the quad. He’d been walking with Felix and Hyunjin, but the second he saw you, he slowed. That instinctive pull drawing him in.

“Go on ahead,” he tells the others.

Felix smirks. “You’re gonna ditch us again, aren’t you?”

Chan didn’t bother denying it. “Yup.”

When he reaches you, he doesn’t say anything at first, just quietly sits down beside you, his knee brushing yours. Then, without asking, he slips his hand into yours.

You blink, startled. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says softly, thumb tracing small circles against your skin. “You’ve been quiet today.”

“Just tired,” you lie.

He hums, unconvinced. “Tired, or thinking too much?”

Your lips twitch. “You always know, don’t you?”

“I try to,” he says. “What’s going on?”

You hesitate, eyes fixed on your joined hands. “It’s just people. Talking.”

He stills, his grip tightening slightly. “About us?”

“Yeah.” Your voice is small. “They make it sound like I don’t belong with you. Like I’m just some girl who got lucky.”

He frowns, jaw tightening. For a second, he doesn’t say anything. Then, gently, he tugs you closer until your shoulder brushes his chest. “Y/N,” he says quietly, “you’re not some girl. You’re my girl. And you don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

You let out a small breath, leaning against him despite yourself. “You really don’t care what people say?”

“I care when it hurts you,” he admits. “But them? No. They don’t see what I see.”

“What do you see?” You tease softly, though your voice wavers just a little.

He smiles then, a small and sincere smile. “Someone who’s smart and stubborn and kind. Someone who makes me want to show up better every day. Someone who makes my head spin from how beautiful she is. Someone I can’t stop thinking about.”

You feel your chest tighten in that warm, dizzy way he always caused. “Chan…”

He rests his forehead lightly against yours. “You don’t have to be brave all the time, you know. That’s what I’m here for.”

Your eyes flutter shut, your voice barely a whisper. “You’re kind of impossible to argue with.”

“Good,” he says softly, brushing his thumb along your jaw. “Means I’m doing my job.”

You laugh quietly, tension easing from your shoulders. “You’re supposed to be captain, not personal bodyguard.”

“Can’t help it,” he says with a grin. “I like keeping you close.”

And he means it, every word. It wasn’t about control or show. It was comfort. Instinct. Love, in its simplest, most unspoken form.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your temple, slow and tender. “Let them talk,” he murmurs. “They don’t get to decide what’s real.”

You turn your face toward him, smiling faintly. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

He chuckles, pulling you even closer. “That’s because I never want you doubting how much I care.”

He cups your face in his hands and presses his lips to yours, eyes closed and nose softly bumping into yours. You sigh and surrender to his very convincing kiss.

And sitting there under the fading afternoon light, the whispers finally fade, replaced by the knowledge that he was yours, and you were his.

Later that day, practice ends early, which should’ve been a good thing, but you immediately notice the suspicious looks the team exchanges when you show up with the usual post-practice snacks.

Felix is the first to call out. “Y/N! Just in time!”

You blink, adjusting the strap of your bag. “In time for what?”

Hyunjin gasps dramatically. “She doesn’t know!”

“Know what?”

Changbin grins. “An appreciation meeting.”

You stare at him. “A what?”

Seungmin, sitting cross-legged on the grass with his phone in hand, doesn’t even look up. “They decided this five minutes ago. I really tried to stop them. It didn’t work.”

Felix beams. “We’re telling you what we love about you!”

You groan immediately. “Oh no—”

“Oh yes,” Hyunjin says, settling into the grass like it was storytime. “This is happening.”

Chan sighs beside him. “I’m sorry, babe. I mentioned how you were feeling and—”

“Quiet, Captain,” Changbin says with mock authority. “You’ll get your turn too.”

That earns a few laughs, and before you could escape, Felix pulls you down next to him. “Alright, everyone. One thing you love about Y/N. I’ll start. I love that she always cheers for everyone, not just Chan. You have no idea how good it feels hearing your name from the stands, even if you almost miss a pass.”

Hyunjin places a hand over his heart. “Beautiful. Inspirational. Okay, my turn. I love that Y/N doesn’t run away when I start talking about skincare or art stuff. She even came to my gallery event, remember? That’s loyalty.”

You laugh softly. “You cornered me next to Chan’s painting.”

“And you listened!” Hyunjin shoots back proudly. “That’s love and respect!”

Changbin leans forward, grinning. “I love that she gives honest advice. Like when I said I was gonna bleach my hair blonde and she looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘Maybe not before finals.’”

“I stand by that,” you say, smiling. “Your scalp thanked me.”

Seungmin finally looks up from his phone. “I love that you bring snacks that aren’t protein bars. I forgot what joy tasted like until you showed up with cookies.”

Felix gasps. “Hey, I bring brownies sometimes!”

“They were like fudge last time,” Seungmin deadpans.

Jeongin speaks next, quieter but sincere. “I love that you treat us all like real people, not just the ‘soccer guys.’ You actually ask about our classes and remember what we say.”

That one made the group soften a little. A rare hush falls over them.

Then Jisung ruins it. “I love that you didn’t punch me when I flirted with you before I knew you were Chan’s crush.”

“Before you knew?” Seungmin repeats.

Jisung raises his hands. “Look, in my defense, she was cute, and someone didn’t tell us he was secretly in love with her!”

Minho smirks from the sidelines. “You freaked out when I told you.”

“I did not freak out.”

Felix grins. “You 100% did.”

Minho pats your head, signaling his turn. “You’re lucky I like you, or I’d pretend I didn’t notice all the hard work you do.” And somehow that makes you teary-eyed. He sighs and does his little bunny smile.

Changbin elbows Chan with a smirk. “Okay, Captain. Your turn.”

The teasing instantly dies down, eight pairs of eyes turning toward him.

You shake your head, laughing nervously. “You don’t have to—”

“No, no,” Hyunjin interrupts. “We insist.”

Chan sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression softening as he looks at you. “I love that you never pretend to be anyone else. Even when people talk, even when it’s not easy, you’re still you.”

It wasn’t loud or dramatic, just simple, honest, and warm in that quiet way Chan always is when it matters. The boys all went silent for a beat, the teasing softening into fond smiles.

Then Hyunjin sniffles obnoxiously. “Wow. Poetry. I might cry.”

“Shut up,” Seungmin mutters, but he’s grinning.

Your chest feels full, light, and tight at the same time. “I hate you guys,” you say, though your voice trembles slightly.

Felix’s grin softens. “You love us.”

Changbin claps his hands. “Group hug!”

Before you can protest, they all pile in—loud, chaotic, too many limbs, and zero coordination. You squeal, laughing so hard your eyes water as Felix nearly knocks over Hyunjin, and Jeongin somehow ends up with Chan’s arm over his head.

When you all finally break apart, you’re breathless and smiling.

Chan walks up to you, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “Told you they adore you,” he murmurs.

You smile back, cheeks pink. “Guess I really am part of the team now.”

He grins. “You always were.”

And with the sunset spilling gold across the field, the noise of the team fading into laughter again, you finally believed it completely.

The final game of the season had a buzz that even the boys couldn’t shake off. Graduation was only a few weeks away, and though they joked through warmups and cracked inside jokes on the bench, there was an ache underneath it all. The kind that comes with knowing something good is about to come to an end.

Chan felt it most of all. Four years of soccer, leadership, and pressure all boiling down to this last game. But as he tightened the tape around his wrists, his thoughts weren’t on the match.

They were on you.

You. Who’d been there through every win, every rough night, every quiet conversation between classes. The girl he’d started walking home after practice. The one he’d kissed for the first time under the old stadium lights weeks ago — soft, nervous, unforgettable. The one he’d taken out for coffee, for late-night drives, for quiet dinners where he could finally stop being “Captain Bang Chan” and just be Chan.

And now, here you both were, the end of the season, the last chapter of this version of your story. He expected to see you in the stands as usual, but when he jogged onto the field and scanned the stands, he froze. Because there you were. Right in the front row. Wearing his jersey.

The boys notice too.

Felix gasps. “She’s wearing your jersey!”

Hyunjin starts fanning himself with a towel. “I’m witnessing the peak of romance.”

Changbin grins. “Bro, you’re done for. She just claimed you.”

Chan’s heart hammers, his grin unstoppable. “Yeah,” he says softly, eyes still locked on you. “Guess she did.”

The game was brutal. Fast, sweaty, electric. But Chan played like a man possessed. Every time he looked toward the stands, you were there, cheering, waving, that little spark in your eyes that made his lungs feel full even when he was gasping for breath.

When the whistle blows and declares their victory, the field explodes with noise. The team roars, fans scream, and players tackle each other in celebration.

But Chan only sees you.

He drops his water bottle. His towel hits the ground. And he sprints towards you.

You barely have time to process it before he reaches you at the edge of the field. He’s still breathless, sweat-damp, and smiling as if he’d just won the world.

“Chan—!” You start, but he doesn’t let you finish.

He slides an arm around your waist, the other behind your shoulders, and with one smooth, spontaneous motion, he lifts you right off the ground. Your gasp turns into laughter, and then he kisses you—a full, heart-stopping, breath-stealing kiss. Cheers, screams, laughter. Chan doesn’t hear any of it. Just your heartbeat, your hands clutching at his shoulders, the warmth of your lips, the way you smile into the kiss before he finally sets you gently back down.

“Whoa,” you whisper, breathless, cheeks pink.

He grins, brushing a thumb along your jaw. “You wore my jersey. I lost all self-control.”

Your laugh was soft, dizzying. “That was your reason?”

He shrugs, still smiling. “Seemed like a good one.”

Behind him, the chaos is unreal.

Felix and Hyunjin are screaming into each other’s shoulders.

Jeongin jumps up and down yelling. Jisung is dramatically pretending to faint while Changbin fans him with a clipboard. Even Seungmin, ever the composed one, shakes his head and mutters, “I can’t believe this is real life.”

You hide your face in your hands, laughing, while Chan wraps an arm around your waist again, pulling you close as the team swarms around you both.

“Alright,” Hyunjin calls, “we’re taking credit for this!”

“All of it!” Felix adds, giggling. “We told her to wear the jersey!”

Chan smiles widely at each of them before pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Even though it was the last game, it didn’t feel like an ending.

It felt like the beginning of something he’d been waiting for all along.

The night before graduation arrived before you knew it.

You and Chan walk slowly down the quiet path, fingers intertwined, the sound of laughter mixing with the hum of the city beyond campus. You’d just left dinner, the last official date before graduation, and were heading back to his apartment, unhurried, like neither of you wanted the night to end.

Your sleek, fitted dress shimmered faintly in the streetlight, the dark fabric hugging you just enough to make Chan lose his train of thought every few steps. You looked incredible—confident and warm and radiant in that quiet way that always undid him.

He squeezes your hand, grinning. “You know, I’ve been trying really hard not to stare at you all night.”

You look up at him, amused. “You’re doing a terrible job.”

“I know,” he admits, laughing. “You make it impossible.”

You nudge his shoulder. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you say stuff like that.”

“I’m lucky in general,” he says easily, voice soft but sure.

By the time you reach the familiar path to his apartment building, his arm is around your waist, pulling you close the way he always did. Clingy, protective, unable to help himself. He didn’t need to say much; the touch said everything. You’d be spending the night at his place since it was closer to the restaurant.

“You realize this is our last walk like this before graduation,” you murmur.

“Yeah,” Chan says. “Last walk before the next chapter.” He glances at you with that quiet, adoring smile. “But not the last one ever. You’re stuck with me, remember?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh no, what a tragedy.”

He grins, ducking his head to meet your eyes. “You joke, but I’m serious. You’re my favorite part of all this. The team, the games, college…none of it means anything without you in it.”

Your steps slow, and when you stop at the corner near his building, you turn to face him fully. “You really mean that?”

Chan brushes a loose strand of hair from your cheek, his thumb lingering there. “I do,” he says softly. “You make everything better just by being here.”

Your heart squeezes, and before you could think of a reply, he adds, almost shyly, “I think I love you.”

You blink up at him, the streetlight catching in your eyes. “You think?”

He laughs quietly, shaking his head. “No. I don’t know why I said that. I know I love you. Completely.”

Your smile spreads, slow and sure, as you reach up to touch his jaw. “Good,” you whisper. “Because I love you too.”

He exhales, half a laugh, half a sigh of relief, before leaning in and kissing you, soft at first, then deeper, steadier, the kind of kiss that carried every promise neither of you had to say out loud.

When you break apart, he rests his forehead against yours, still smiling. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to say that.”

“Probably as long as I’ve wanted to hear it,” you say.

He laughs again, tugging you close as you start walking the last few steps to his apartment. “Alright, come on,” he murmurs, his tone playfully warm. “You’re not getting rid of me now. Forever starts tonight.”

And under that quiet night sky, city lights flickering, and the future waiting. It didn’t feel like the end of anything at all.

It felt like the beginning of everything that mattered.

part one | part two | part three >>