heyy girliee hope you are doing well!!
waiting for EITF update!!
hiiii i am doing well! sorry for not updating sooner but i am currently working on it!!! a bit slower though because i used most of my time to rest lately TTT
Hey sweetie this is your favourite reader checking in if you are doing okay 😘
HIIIII!!!! oh my god so sorry for disappearing for a little while but am doing okay! i just tendered my resignation vvvv recently soooo yeah JWJEHSJSHD shit happened in a way that’s never happened before and it’s been crazy over here but it’s all finally getting better now and i should be able to get back on track with my works 😮💨 thank you so much for checking in 🥺🥺🥺
really glad that people liked bybtm longer ver cause i struggled to write asshole!gyu after two years of posting that drabble 🥲 he’s just so sweet and lovely i can’t picture him doing anything bad jashhfafskksj
tags: situationship!au, angst, hurt/comfort, bff!seungkwan, reader just have attachment issues, mingyu lowkey a flirt and an asshole, unresolved fight, co-producer!gyu, fluff in the beginning, matured themes (will have nsfw content in the next part) bad communication
a/n: it’s finally here 😮💨 you can read the drabble as a “teaser” for the next part :3 likes, reblogs and comments are so much appreciated! they encourage me to continue writing and will help to post quicker updates >.>
PART 01 | PART 02
The deal was simple.
No strings attached, no feelings involved, no romantic commitment needed.
You had agreed because the idea of getting into a new relationship seemed pretty exhausting. You just got out of a messy breakup months ago, one that left deep wounds. Pain was still there, although faded over time. But still, you couldn’t enter a new one when you haven’t truly moved on.
Mingyu was just nice, kind, caring, and someone you enjoyed having a long conversation with. You ignored the very important part about yourself which is your severe attachment issues, but oh well, he was willing to fill in the void you were so desperately seeking.
“I can’t do relationships either,” he had informed you on a random Tuesday evening, both of you seated next to each other in a karaoke room crowded with your loud friends. Seungkwan’s voice and Dokyeom’s dramatic high notes somehow muted in the background when the piece of information gained your attention the most.
“Why?” You asked, curious. Because Mingyu looked like a person who preferred something real, something genuine, definitely not the type to mess around.
He chugged down an entire glass of soju, softly hissed at the taste of it afterward. His tongue caught his bottom lip in a short swipe, hooded gaze shifting back to you with a small, dangerous smile. “It feels better when people pay attention to you and not expect more.”
You understood immediately.
“I haven’t done this with anyone honestly,” The glass in your lap was left untouched, you barely drank because you thought one person needed to be sober at least. Glancing at your friends, half of them were already tipsy, some knocked out. But the concern for your friends was nothing more terrifying than the deal. You wondered if it was possible for you to try, but the need to have someone close and listen to you after a long day was more tempting. You had been lonely for so long.
Mingyu’s eyes softened as he studied your face, “You don’t have to do it if you’re not ready. We can still be friends.”
You looked up at him, and offered a smile, thankful. He was so sweet. You had only known him for three weeks, first meeting at Seungkwan’s sister’s wedding. Both of you were at the same table when he introduced Mingyu to you. You learned that they used to work together under the same company before Mingyu left. The conversations flowed seamlessly as both of you shared each career's journey, hometown, university and childhood memories which led to numbers being exchanged.
Not much texting at first. Probably because you two were busy adults.
But then you saw a notification that he had followed your Instagram, which was kind of the starting point of your current situation with him.
It went from compliments to playful remarks, then slowly the comments and story replies got a little bit.. flattering. Or so you thought. He could be really honest, but your heart did triple flip regardless when he called you pretty. It was a new, baby pink dress you wore for your friend’s party. You did feel cute and pretty that day, but you were not prepared to see Mingyu leave a heart reaction on your story with the comment once you got home.
“So, your answer?”
You snapped back to reality, neon-colored lights illuminated the dark room with an upbeat song playing in the background. The silence between you and him stretched out, his dark gaze looming over you, looking like he couldn’t wait a minute longer. Your heart skipped a beat.
Mingyu looked so infuriatingly attractive in a simple black leather jacket, hair parted in a way that made you swoon. The scent of sandalwood and soft musk clinging onto his fabric was addictive, and you knew you couldn’t say no to such an offer from the man, not when he looked so good effortlessly. Even more so, when he seemed just as eager to have you.
He wasn’t pushing. But he wasn’t subtle either.
“I'd still like to try,” You finally responded after a minute, and in a brief moment, you noticed his eyes glinted.
Then he grinned, looking rather satisfied with your answer. Your breath hitched when he casually sneaked his hand and interlaced his fingers with yours, thumb brushing softly against your palm.
“Don’t worry, it’s no different than us being friends. We both just need.. a companion.”
That’s what he said.
And you agreed because it was fitting. There were no further questions, because the deal was simple. You didn’t bother asking more, he wasn’t your boyfriend that you need to be particular about every single thing he likes.
And you were fine with that.
—
It was late evening on a Friday when Mingyu suddenly dropped by your apartment. Your eyes widened at the sight of him holding a plastic bag filled with boxes at your entrance.
“Pizza?” He smiled, and you let him in with a laugh.
“I didn’t know I ordered a delivery,” You jokingly teased as he set up the table, the living room instantly filled with the aroma of the freshly baked pizzas. He had a dramatic pained look upon hearing your words, and you couldn’t help but to snort in amusement.
“Well maybe you should’ve checked your phone, ma’am, because this is a limited edition pizza and I almost fought with the manager to give me extra pineapple topping,” He let out a huff, eyebrows furrowed. “I can’t believe they put so little. Good thing I checked.”
You hummed softly as you took a seat next to him. Both of you decided to watch a movie while you had your dinner. “Good thing you did. Though I don’t really like pineapples.”
Mingyu gasped so loud it made you giggle.
“Unacceptable,” He shook his head playfully, like he couldn’t believe what he just heard. “You should try, seriously. They’re sweet, and pizza tastes better with extra sweetness.”
You made a face at his suggestion and he pinched your cheek aggressively in return, making you giggle out loud. “Brat, aren’t you?”
“Nope,” You grabbed a slice of the pizza and took a bite, the cheese pull was so satisfying that you let out a happy noise. “Mmm..”
Mingyu watched your reaction with a wide, proud grin, “Good, right?”
You gave him a nod and he chuckled. The dinner continued with the two of you chatting about each other’s work, the office drama and some recent gossip surrounding people Mingyu has worked with. You were impressed to know he had so many spicy news under his sleeve. Two boxes of pizzas cleared after an hour of gossiping and laughing at comedic scenes from the movie, Mingyu demanded dessert time and you just so happened to have extra vanilla ice cream in your fridge.
“No chocolate?” You could tell he just wanted to be annoying, so you gave him a soft flick on his forehead instead. His little ‘ouch’ made you grin in victory.
“Brat, aren’t you?” You mimicked back the way he said it to you just now, ready to witness his cute frown but his next action caught you off guard.
His hand moved fast to grab yours, pulling you closer to him on the couch, your back hitting the side of his chest with a soft yelp. You had no time to think about how close you were when he wrapped his arms around you, warmth enveloping your body like a blanket. He rested his chin comfortably against your head and once again you were reminded just how small you were being near him.
“You are.”
It made you feel dizzy.
“Thought you wanted to eat ice cream,” You murmured, ignoring the blush on your cheeks and the rapid beat inside your chest. You heard a soft hum in response, but he didn’t make a move.
“Feed me?”
Oh, god.
You tried to act nonchalant, complaining with a low “what a grown baby” under your breath which he managed to catch, followed by the sound of his chuckle. You scooped up a spoon of the ice cream, then carefully raised to his mouth.
His eyes fell on you first, and you could practically feel your cheeks burning as he remained his gaze on you while he tasted the ice cream.
Both of you didn’t speak, letting the silence thicken and a soft, dizzying hum settled in the pit of your stomach. The way he looked at you was heavy, and his lips lingered on the metal spoon before he slowly pulled back.
“Sweet,” He murmured, but his eyes were not focusing on the ice cream bowl. Your heart did that weird lurching thing.
A fake cough was what you could manage in a frantic attempt to redirect the focus back on the abandoned TV. The room suddenly felt hotter even with the AC running. You tried to pay attention to the movie but could feel that his eyes still fixed on you.
“You’re staring.”
Mingyu shifted, somehow getting even closer as he tightened his arms around your waist. “Hard not to.” Then he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. You nearly let out a shaky sigh.
"You have this look on your face when you’re flustered. Like you’re trying to solve a math equation in your head."
It made you roll your eyes, but your cheeks remained flushed nonetheless. He was pretty observant. "Maybe I am. Maybe I’m calculating how much I'm going to charge you for being this needy."
"Put it on my tab," he joked, but then he got quiet. The playful energy shifted into something softer, more grounded. He shifted his head so his temple was resting against yours, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on your arm. "Seriously, though. You okay? I know I just barged in here."
There it was. That genuine kindness that made you want to scream.
"I'm okay," you said, and you meant it. His presence did ease some of the tension you had at work. “The pizza helped. The company... isn't bad either."
Mingyu pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, a triumphant, boyish grin breaking across his face. "Only 'isn't bad'? Ouch. I guess I’ll have to try harder next Friday."
You bite your bottom lip, hiding a shy smile. If he tried to be flirty, guess it wouldn’t hurt to do the same. “G’nna see me again?”
Mingyu responded with a faint hum, gently brushing your hair away from your forehead. “Mm. Wanna see you again, many times.”
“Clingy,” you teased, but you were not any different. You liked his attention.
Mingyu, on the other hand, was shameless. “And?” You were about to come out with a smart reply before he tickled your side out of revenge. You shrieked.
“Don’t—!” He laughed, and you made a move to stay a little far away but he was faster to pull you back to his arms, his chest collided against your back.
You were fully seated on his lap now.
“Stay still, bunny,” he murmured, his hold secured around your waist. “Don’t make me use my strength on you.”
Your whine died in your throat.
“Good girl,” he whispered, and heat rushed to your face instantly. He didn't let go. Instead, he reached for the remote, hitting play on the movie that was paused, but the plot was the last thing on your mind when all you could think of was the musky scene of his cologne seeping from his body, the way your head tucked perfectly under his chin, his bigger frame almost enveloped you.
Your thoughts almost drifted to a dangerous territory when a sudden ring from his phone echoed through the room.
Mingyu let out a deep groan and picked up the call, tone quickly adjusted to a more formal one seeing the caller’s name. “Yes? You couldn’t find the files?”
You waited until he finished the conversation which sounded like it needed serious attention. Then you heard him sigh before he turned to you with an apologetic smile. “Bun, I’m so sorry. Urgent matters need to attend. Can I make it up for you next time?”
You smiled back, understanding. “Yes, of course. Don’t worry. Go ahead and get it done before they can bother you some more.” Work can be really tough sometimes, even though it’s already past the working hours. It’s a culture you were very familiar with.
Mingyu squeezed you in a warm hug and placed a brief kiss on your cheek, then a soft pat on your head. “See you later, yeah? Don’t sulk.”
You blinked, mouth agape, cheeks tinted in pink.
He let out an amused laugh and made his way toward the front door. You followed him until he had his shoes back on, ready to leave. He looked at you one last time, a sweet smile plastered on his face.
“Goodnight, bun. I’m glad I could see your face today.”
Your heart did something stupid again.
“Goodnight, Mingyu. Drive safe.”
—
You didn’t think you could make it this far, but you did. It has been four months of no-label thing between you and Mingyu, and the arrangement surprisingly worked well.
Perhaps you just focused too much on your work, and him, and nothing else. It had been easy that way, because adulting didn’t give you much freedom to do anything else unless you had taken days off.
And it was your day off today— a full week, actually.
Which explained why you were bed-rotting instead of cleaning up your room like you had intended to do. Mingyu was also busy, you assumed. Because he didn’t text you as often now. You had asked if he was free for dinner but apparently he was currently in Japan for work. So, no Mingyu until further notice.
You decided to check his Instagram instead with the excuse that you were starting to miss him.
His recent posts were a series of aesthetic shots of the places he went to, some mirror selfies and behind-the-scenes of his work. You found yourself grinning like a middle schooler as you stalked his feed. He could easily pass as a model if he wanted to— being 6’2 tall with an ethereal face and fine muscles everywhere. The aggressive tapping of the heart reaction was simply not enough to convey your obsession with him. Everyone knows he’s madly attractive.
Then you saw the colorful ring around his profile picture. You didn’t notice he had uploaded a story.
Your breath caught when you saw he had reposted someone else's story. It was a candid photo of Mingyu, looking relaxed and devastatingly handsome in a casual knit sweater, leaning across a table at a brightly lit izakaya. He was laughing, that genuine, eye-crinkling laugh that usually only came out when he was comfortable.
The original poster’s handle was at the top— a woman’s name you didn't recognize, followed by a small, fluttering heart emoji. The caption was simple: “Finally back together in Tokyo 🥂.”
Your heart didn’t just sink, it felt like it hit the floor.
You stared at the photo, zooming in on his face. He looked... happy.
The spiral started instantly.
You began to dissect the phrase “back together.” Who was she? An ex? Someone he’d been seeing the whole time while he was busy? Was that why he couldn’t text you?
Then you realized you had no right to ask. You weren't his girlfriend. You weren't even someone he had to check in with. No strings attached, remember?
So why did you feel so heavy at the thought of him with someone else?
“Probably a friend,” you tried not to jump into conclusions, but you couldn’t sit still. A minute later, you tapped on the woman’s Instagram profile next.
The account was set to public.
You contemplated whether to continue, part of you thought it’s pointless to do this kind of work, it will only give you damage if you found something you weren’t fond of. But your curiosity was over the roof. You clicked on her stories, ignoring all the warning signs in your head.
It started with a normal update of her visiting an art gallery, then photos of the painting, two iced matcha lattes from the street then her dinner. The same place Mingyu had been. You focused more on the photo, there was nobody else there. Just two people, two glasses of wine. The next story was the one Mingyu had reposted.
All taken on the same day.
Art gallery, matcha, dinner.
Were they out on a date?
You threw your phone onto your bed with a growing sting on your chest. You had no reason to be upset with who he hung out with, but god, did it hurt.
A laughter escaped from your mouth then, you felt ridiculed at your own feelings, the sheer audacity to feel betrayed by someone who wasn’t even yours in the first place. The flashbacks from the karaoke show rewinded at the back of your mind, replaying his exact words.
“It feels better when people pay attention to me and not expect more.”
He already laid out the first rule for you.
But the implications of it didn’t hit so hard until you finally tasted it.
“A companion,” you repeated his words, staring at the ceiling with a hollow space in your heart. “I’m just a companion.”
The silence in your room felt suffocating. You thought you had it controlled, that you were confident enough this arrangement would work out as long as you don’t try to dig further than what you needed to know. But you did it, the damage has been done and now you couldn’t stop thinking how many people he had entertained too. The mere thought that you were just one of them made you sick.
Ironic. You had agreed. It was your choice.
You rolled onto your side, pulling your knees to your chest. The bed suddenly felt too big. The sting in your chest deepened.
Just then, the screen lit up. A notification banner popped across the top, making your breath hitch.
Mingyu: [Photo]
Mingyu: it’s raining here, and it’s so cold. what are you up to right now?
The casualness felt like a slap. He had no idea the kind of state you were pulled into. Your heart no longer asked you to seek comfort in him, rather it begged you to step away because it started aching. You listened.
The text was left delivered, unreplied.
—
By the second day, he sent a follow-up:
Mingyu: busy? or did you finally decide to clean your room? lol
You felt a flare of irritation. Lol. As if your silence was just a funny little quirk and not a screaming signal that something was wrong. You waited six hours before typing a reply that felt like ice.
You: just busy. enjoy tokyo.
He didn't reply for a full day after that, and the silence felt like a heavy weight on your chest. You went back to your planned agenda for the day. If you had to spend days with free time alone with a heartbreak, you needed some kind of distractions to go through it.
A few days later, another text arrived.
Mingyu: am landing tonight. should i stop by with dinner? found these snacks you'd like at the airport :)
In the past, you would have jumped at the offer. You would have tidied the living room, sprayed your favorite perfume, and waited by the door. But now, all you could remember was the Instagram story. The date he had with a woman he reunited.
You: maybe some other time.
You tossed the phone face down on the carpet. It felt powerful to say no, but it also felt like you were cutting a limb off. You were protecting your heart, sure, but the void you had tried so hard to fill was opening up again, wider and darker than before.
The two weeks of keeping him at arm’s length felt like a slow, agonizing detox. You were training yourself to live without interacting with him, and honestly, you thought you were doing a decent job. You’d mastered the art of the three-word reply.
“Busy with work.” “Already ate.” “Maybe next time.”
You were becoming a ghost in your own life, and for fourteen days, Mingyu seemed to accept the distance. Guess he really didn’t care.
But then, the bubble burst.
It started on a rainy Thursday. Your phone buzzed on the nightstand— a call. Mingyu. You watched the screen glow, his name flashing like a warning sign. You didn't pick up. You just watched it until it went to voicemail, your heart thumping a painful rhythm against your ribs.
Another call. You ignored it.
A minute later, the vibration started again. A text.
Mingyu: are you seriously avoiding my calls now?
You didn't answer. You stared at the phone, trying to ignore the way your hands were shaking.
Mingyu: i’ve been back for two weeks. tried to see you four times. what is going on?
Still, you stayed silent. You felt a tiny sense of satisfaction seeing him lose his cool. Wasn’t this what he wanted? For you not to expect more?
Mingyu: don’t do this. just talk to me. did i do something?
You could feel his irritation through his texts. But you remained silent. He would give up after some time.
Mingyu: I’m outside your building. Pick up the phone or I’m coming up.
Your stomach did a violent flip— a shaky gasp escaped you. He was never this blunt. You finally typed back, suddenly the situation hadn’t flowed like you had narrated it.
You: don’t come up. i’m tired, mingyu. go home.
His reply was instant.
Mingyu: I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’ve been acting like I don't exist since I got back from Japan. If the deal is over, fine, but have the decency to say it to my face.
You sat up in bed— irritated, unsettled, and angry all at once.
You: I just want to be left alone tonight. Or next week. Is that a problem?
You waited, holding your breath. You wanted him to back off, instead, your buzzer rang.
He wasn't leaving.
You marched to the door, the anger finally overriding the heartache. You didn't even bother checking the peephole; you just yanked it open, determined to end this before you lost your nerve.
Mingyu was leaning against the doorframe, looking exhausted and genuinely agitated. His hair was a mess from the rain, and that casual image he usually maintained was completely gone. The second he saw you, his expression shifted from irritation to a flicker of relief, but you didn't give him a chance to speak.
"Go home, Mingyu," you said, your voice flat and cold.
He blinked, taken aback by the ice in your tone. "Are you kidding me? I’ve been trying to reach you for days. You don't just go silent for two weeks and then tell me to go home without a single word of why."
"I don't have to give you a 'why'," you snapped, gripping the edge of the door so hard your knuckles turned white. You were losing patience. "That was the whole point of this, wasn't it? I don't feel like seeing you, so I'm not seeing you."
Mingyu stepped forward, closing the gap between you, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your chest ache. "If I did something to piss you off, just say it. Is it because I was busy in Japan? Is that it?"
A bitter laugh escaped you. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing you'd seen that story. You weren't going to admit you'd spent your vacation wondering who the other woman was.
"You're overthinking it," you lied, mirroring the casual tone he used to have. "I'm just bored of the arrangement. I don't owe you an explanation for how I feel or how I don't feel."
The words came out faster than you thought— even you were surprised.
Mingyu’s jaw tightened, his gaze hardened with a visible frown. Like he couldn’t believe what you were saying.
"I don't owe you an explanation," he repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous, quiet hiss. "Right. I forgot. We’re just companions when it’s convenient, but the second we’re done, the door is shut."
"Exactly," you said, though it felt like you were stabbing yourself. Swallowing a lump, you pretended to be composed. “So, go back and leave me alone."
Mingyu let out a sharp, harsh exhale that sounded like a scoff. He stepped back, putting distance between you, his face contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated anger. He looked at you for one long, silent moment— a look that said he didn't even recognize the person standing in front of him.
"Fine," he spat, turning on his heel. "Have it your way. I'm done trying to figure you out."
He didn't look back as he stormed down the hallway. The sound of his heavy footsteps echoed against the walls, and you stood there until the elevator dinked and he was gone.
You slammed the door shut and leaned your back against it, sliding down until you hit the floor. You had won. He was pissed, he was gone, and your secret was safe. But as you sat there in the dark hallway of your apartment, the victory tasted like nothing but salt and regret.
"I'm such an idiot," you choked out, pressing your face into your palms.
The anger that had felt so powerful seconds ago had vanished, leaving behind nothing but a hollow, aching regret. You had wanted to protect yourself, to prove that you didn't care as much as he did, but all you'd done was drive a knife into the one good thing you had left. You had seen him hurt and instead of being honest, you’d used the rules of your deal as a weapon to push him away.
You sat there on the cold floor for what felt like hours. Part of you wanted to run out that door, find his car, and tell him everything. But the other part of you— the one that was still hurting from being one of his many options— stayed frozen.
So you were indeed not ready at all to do this. Not even the slightest bit.
Mingyu had been everything you wanted in a guy. Everything except the part where you wished you hadn’t figured out so soon. Were you so desperate to fill in the space, that you unintentionally projected a version of him that only fitted your selfish needs?
Your lips trembled slightly. You had no right to complain, you reminded yourself many times.
So you went to sleep with a never ending ache.
—
Seungkwan looked like he could murder someone the way he almost snapped his chopsticks from gripping them too hard.
You had to nudge him with your feet to get his head cleared with whatever crimes he planned to commit. “Hey— stop. You’re thinking too much. It’s okay now.”
He gave you a hard look. “Which part of this is okay? Care to explain?”
A soft groan left your mouth.
“He’s literally your friend,” you reasoned, which is true. You didn’t want to cause a fight between him and Mingyu just because you couldn’t handle your situation.
Seungkwan, however, couldn’t care less about it. “And that is why I am giving him hell. But you,” he suddenly pointed his chopsticks at you with a piercing stare. “You should have told me sooner. I could have warned you before you got yourself tangled with this mess.”
“So you knew?”
“A lot.” Your friend sighed. “It’s not news. He’s working in the entertainment industry as a co-producer of popular television shows. His networking is part of his job. He attracted a lot of people.”
You chewed the inside of your cheek. You have heard of Mingyu’s career. Just didn’t think too much about it.
“Never dated any of them?” You didn’t want to know, knowing it will deepen the ache if Seungkwan revealed that he did. But he shook his head, and you felt a tiniest bit of relief.
“They’re all very busy people. Some just wanted to have fun without needing to put extra commitment into something else than their work.”
That sounds like Mingyu.
Then, Seungkwan added, “The girl from the story is one of the production staff, currently based in Tokyo. They used to work together when Mingyu was assigned for a Japanese special, the same one I was featured in for a few episodes. They.. well, they had some kind of history.”
You paused on chewing— the information caused your stomach to sink.
“It was never official—” Seungkwan must’ve noticed the shift in your reaction the way he quickly panicked. “Just, it went on for about one year. I don’t know too much about the relationship. Every time I asked if they were dating, Mingyu just laughed it off and said no. So, that’s that.”
A low, troubled sigh escaped you, “Still doesn’t change the fact that they are still in contact.”
Seungkwan softened his gaze, his chopsticks put down. “You are not the type to do this kind of thing. I know you. Don’t waste your time thinking about him, okay?”
You responded with a soft hum before you picked up your chopsticks again, finishing your meal even if you felt like your appetite slowly disappeared. “I guess he introduced all of his girls to his mom too.”
Seungkwan let out a nasty, aggressive cough. “Sorry— he what?”
You blinked rapidly, heart racing. “What? I just said he probably brought his girls to meet his mom too.”
“Did you see Mrs Kim?”
“I did.” Your eyebrows furrowed. “Why? Is that so surprising?”
It looked like Seungkwan was going to say something but closed his mouth quickly. Then he cleared his throat, his demeanor suddenly shifted from a wild, frantic look into a calmed one.
“No. It’s just— it has been a while since she came to visit. That’s all.”
You stared at him, unconvinced but brushed it off. If it was something important he would tell you. "I figured. She seemed to know her way around the city.”
“Did she suspect anything between you two though?”
“No..” You trailed off, trying to recall the moment you had met Mingyu’s mother.
You were heading to his place to return the jacket he left.
It was 2 pm on a Sunday, and Mingyu just came back from a shooting. You had not thought much, just going to deliver his item and maybe grab some pastries from a nearby cafe afterward. You pressed the buzzer of his apartment, revealing a grinning Mingyu in a comfy, knitted sweatshirt.
“Hey,” he pulled you into a hug. “Thanks, bug. You really didn’t have to.”
You quickly shook your head. “I insist. It’s not a big deal anyway. And it’s your favourite one!”
“My mom’s here,” he’d whispered, his eyes scanning your face with an intensity that made your heart skip. “Join us? We are about to have lunch anyway.”
Your heart raced, mind turning blank. Confusion was understatement, you simply had no idea why he was acting like it was no big deal for you to meet his mother. It felt.. intimate. He seemed to know your internal battle though, the way his eyes crinkled with an easy laugh. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside before you could refuse more.
“Come. She'd be happy to see you.”
When you stepped into the living room, his mother was standing by the dining table, setting down a bowl of steaming rice. She stopped, her eyes widening as she took you in. She looked at you, then at Mingyu, then back at you— specifically at the way his hand was still wrapped firmly around your wrist, as if he was afraid you’d bolt.
"Oh?" her voice hovered between surprise and curiosity. "You didn't tell me you had company coming over, Mingyu."
"She was just dropping off my jacket, Eomma," Mingyu said, his voice dropping into that smooth, casual tone he used when he was trying to play it cool. But he didn't let go of your wrist. "I told her she had to stay for your cooking. You wouldn't want her to go hungry, would you?"
His mother wiped her hands on her apron, her gaze lingering on your face. You felt exposed, nervous, standing there in your casual weekend clothes, clutching a leather jacket like a shield.
"Of course not," she said, her expression shifting into a warm, genuine smile. "Come, sit. There’s plenty."
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
The lunch was... surprisingly comfortable. She didn't grill you like you expected. Instead, she seemed to find your presence a delight. She laughed when you told her how Mingyu was always losing his things, and she grew fond of you the more you ate. She kept pushing the best cuts of meat onto your plate, watching with a soft expression as you thanked her.
At one point, Mingyu went to answer a work call, leaving the two of you alone. The silence was brief before she leaned in.
“Did Mingyu give you a hard time?”
Her question was so random it made your heart pulse ten times quicker.
“N-no,” you replied, folding your hands in between your lap with a polite smile. “He is really a good friend, eomonim.”
She responded with a hearty laugh. “I was kidding. I haven’t seen you before, dear. Did you two recently meet?”
You nodded, “At Seungkwan’s sister’s wedding.”
Her eyes lit up at the mention of your friend. “Ah, Seungkwannie. Haven’t met that sweet boy in so long. You two should come visit us at Anyang sometime. The three of you are close, right?”
“Yes, we are.” You answered with a smile and she returned with a soft chuckle.
“Then it won’t be a problem for Mingyu to bring you all there.”
The way she said it was so casual, yet it made your heart misfire in your chest.
Mingyu stepped back inside, tucking his phone into his pocket, his face returning to that perfectly practiced, effortless smile. He looked between the two of you, his eyes flickering with a momentary tension before he relaxed.
"What are you two whispering about?" he asked, walking over and sliding his hand naturally onto the back of your chair. The heat from his palm seeped through your shirt, making your heart do a frantic backflip.
"Just Anyang," his mother said, her tone perfectly innocent as she picked up her chopsticks. "I was telling her she should visit. With Seungkwannie."
Mingyu’s hand stilled on the chair. It was only for a fraction of a second— but you felt it. He didn't laugh it off. He didn't make a joke. He just looked at you, his gaze deep and unreadable.
"Yeah," he said quietly, then he smiled— warm. "Maybe we should."
The flashbacks had you stuck with a deep, lingering confusion. Even Mrs Kim’s casualness with you was strange. Perhaps she was just familiar with Mingyu’s many friends. Perhaps you were indeed not the only person who had met her.
The thought only made the sting worse.
You were not special.
—
An event for a post-production celebration for a new streaming series was held at rooftop lounges in Gangnam. The air smelled of expensive cologne and nervous ambition. You were there because Seungkwan had dragged you along as his "plus one," claiming he needed "moral support" from his best friend before he could maximize his social skills with the rest of the people he had worked with.
But the universe has a sick sense of humor.
You saw him before he saw you. Mingyu was across the terrace, leaning against the marble bar with a drink in one hand and the other draped casually over the back of a high stool. A woman was sitting there— a tall, effortlessly chic girl with a laugh that carried over the music.
The sight of him made your heart hit a glitch so hard you actually stumbled.
He was leaning in, his head tilted in that specific way that suggested she was the only person in a room of five hundred. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on the shell of her ear for a beat too long. It was the same attentiveness he’d given you, the same focus he’d used on you that made you think you were the center of his world.
A sharp, jagged static buzzed beneath your ribs. You felt the blood drain from your face, replaced by a heat so intense it felt like a fever. Your hands, tucked into your coat pockets, curled into tight, shaking fists.
You watched as she whispered something in his ear, and he let out a laugh, the kind that used to vibrate against your own shoulder on Friday nights. He looked happy. He looked like a man who had simply shifted his space to a new coordinate.
Your vision blurred with a sudden, stinging heat. You wanted to march over there, grab that drink, and throw it in his perfectly practiced face. But instead, you stood frozen. You were a ghost watching a living man, and the realization that he could replace your presence with hers so seamlessly made you feel small.
“Don’t mind him,” Seungkwan whispered, a glass of wine in his hand. “He’s working hard to get that casting director’s business card.”
“By being a total flirt?”
“It’s the easiest way for him to make money.”
You let out a bitter scoff. “So I was a victim.”
Seungkwan grimaced, “Don’t say that. You weren’t aware.”
The wine in your glass stirred as you moved it slightly before you finished it. Your throat burned not from the alcohol, but the mere reminder that you were a fool for thinking that you could ever manage a situationship with Mingyu.
“I’m going inside,” you informed your best friend which he nodded. The need to stay away from watching more of Mingyu “working” was palpable. A minute longer at the terrace would result in you losing your mind.
The interior of the lounge was a different world— the lighting was a hazy, neon violet, and the air was thick with the scent of fog machines and expensive spirits. A DJ was tucked into a booth in the corner, spinning tracks.
You slipped into the crowd on the small, packed dance floor. You didn't care about looking graceful, you just wanted the music to drown out the image of Mingyu’s laugh. You closed your eyes, letting the beat take over, your body moving in a way that felt like shaking off a layer of dust.
In the middle of a transition, the crowd surged, and you stumbled back, colliding solidly with a firm chest.
“Whoa, careful there,” a voice laughed, light and melodic over the music.
You gasped, your heart doing a frantic backflip as steady hands caught your shoulders to keep you from face-planting. You looked up, expecting a frustrated stranger, but instead, you were met with a face that looked like it had been carved out of moonlight. Sharp jaw, feline eyes that crinkled with genuine amusement, and hair that shimmered under the neon strobes.
It was Taeyong.
You knew him— everyone did. He was the choreographer and performer who usually avoided these stiff industry parties unless the music was good.
“Sorry!” you shouted over the bass, your face heating up. “I wasn't looking where I was going.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said, not letting go of your shoulders just yet. He leaned in so you could hear him, his grin widening. “You were the only one actually dancing instead of just posing. It’s refreshing.”
Before you could stammer out a response, the beat dropped into something infectious and fast. Taeyong didn't pull away, instead, he caught your hand, spinning you back into the rhythm.
“Stay,” he challenged, his eyes sparking. “The fun is right here.”
He started to move, and it was impossible not to follow his lead. Taeyong danced with an effortless energy. You joined him with a laugh— a real, unpracticed sound that tore through the tightness in your chest. Taeyong matched your energy, pulling you into his orbit, his movements playful and bold.
"You have a good rhythm!" he shouted over the thumping beat, his voice a low, teasing hum. He stepped closer, his chest nearly brushing yours as he caught one of your hands. He raised it, spinning you in a slow, deliberate circle that made the neon lights smear into streaks of violet and gold.
When you finished the turn with a giggle, you landed right back in his space. He didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned down, his lips ghosting against the shell of your ear to be heard over the synth, whispering something silly about your dancing that had you throwing your head back with a laugh.
The tension loosened, the knot in your chest, which had been twisted into a painful ache ever since you saw the sight of Mingyu, began to unravel. You allowed yourself to dissolve into the dizzying rush of this new person— vibrant, flushed, and entirely untethered.
Unaware that a pair of dark eyes had been watching you from a distance.
tags: stubborn jeonghan and his stressed coach, new characters!!, shared ice moments hehe, lil fluff, growing romance??, they fell (not in love), they’re still fighting, have i mentioned this is slow burn, they held hands wee, inaccurate terms and facts of fs, pressures from federation
a/n: had to get this chap out before i lose my mind. also really appreciate if you can reblog and comment on my fics instead of likes 🥺 really wanna hear my readers thoughts on my work cause they would motivate me sm to continue. and thank you for those who are supporting!!! hope you’re enjoying this one too <33
PREV. CHAPTER | PART 03 | TBC
The room smelled like antiseptic and something else— something heavy, dark and suffocating. The fluorescent lights were too bright, the sofa was not as comfortable as it looked and the lack of candies on the doctor’s white polished table was kind of annoying to Jeonghan. Nine months of medical consultations after his successful surgery last year was brutal. It was like an endless round of physical therapy and a bunch of off-ice rehabilitation sessions.
He cannot wait to leave this room once his session is over.
He had stopped paying attention to whatever that came out of his doctor’s mouth after the sixth consultation, ever since his doctor said he was still restricted from entering the ice. He had his eyes closed in utter hopelessness after hearing the news, seeing that there was no chance of him using his skates anytime soon. So he spent most of his time afterwards in the training center’s gym, working on his muscles to build his stamina instead. Still, he had to be very careful not to accidentally overbend his knees or something.
The recovery felt slow. Too slow for his liking.
He tried to indulge in some other hobbies at the same time, but nothing really stuck with him except for gaming. It was the only thing that simultaneously drained his brain and filled his boredom. He discovered that fighting some random kids online with provocative remarks anonymously was fun too, even if those pre-teens beat him every single time. “I am too old for this,” he would say that as a hollow excuse, but another jab from a ten year old would drag him back in just as quick.
“You’re allowed to skate again,” Dr. Park finally said after a long thirty-minutes of knee inspection.
God. Finally.
“But there are restrictions,” Dr. Park added firmly, expression stern, his eyes looking back at the progression charts. “No high jumps, limited spins, and don’t bend your knees too much.”
“So, iceform?” Jeonghan muttered, sighing.
Iceform means back to square one. Iceform means getting your feet to touch the icy surface with mindless strokes and baby rotational spins. Like he will skate for the first time.
Myungsoo, sensing his student’s agitation, stepped closer to warn. “You need time to get used to the ice again. You can’t jump straight away into doing quads.”
Jeonghan clicked his tongue in disagreement. “They know what they can handle.”
Dr. Park gave him a serious look. “I’m not doubting your ability, Jeonghan-ssi. But your knee, your muscles— they’ve been through a lot. One wrong move and all this rehab could be wasted. Permanent damage is possible if you accidentally push yourself too hard.”
Jeonghan listened with a deep, lingering stare. Like he was slowly digesting the words into his system. He is not an idiot, he knew the consequences. It’s just time that has been dragging on for so long. The fact that he is able to skate again is a miracle he wouldn’t want to miss, true, but sitting alone and watching the programs at his home instead of participating was more painful than the damage his knees had.
Perhaps if he hadn’t ignored the first signs of a torn ligament, he wouldn’t have to endure such an excruciating long period of recovery. But it was too late now.
Dr. Park continued, “Focus on the basics first. Edges, balance, controlled jumps. Nothing fancy. Nothing risky. We need you to be steady first.”
Jeonghan rolled his eyes and muttered lowly under his breath, “Basics, right.”
Myungsoo let out a soft sigh. He knew his student could get a little impatient. “Don’t rush it. ”
“Yeah, I get it,” Jeonghan said, tone flat, a little annoyed.
Dr. Park closed the folder. “Good. You can skate now, but slowly and carefully. Only under supervision. No shortcuts. This is the first step.”
“How long?” Jeonghan impatiently asked, eyes fixed on his doctor with a hard stare. “I can’t keep doing iceform forever.”
“Two months,” Dr. Park advised, his sentence trailing off for a moment. “… lesser, if we see a positive change in your recovery.”
The younger man leaned back slowly, more focused than he had been in any of his previous consultations. He glanced down at his knee— free from its brace at last— then at the screen displaying his surgical records, before finally looking back at the doctor with a growing, satisfied grin.
He stood, snagging his leather jacket and draping it over his shoulder. He grabbed a cherry-flavored candy from the glass jar and popped it into his mouth on his way to the door. Pausing, he cast a final glance at Dr. Park and offered a playful salute, a wicked grin still dancing on his lips.
“See you again, doctor. With incredible, exciting news.”
The door closed with a smooth click. Myungsoo turned to the dark-haired man in his white uniform and they both shared a knowing look.
“The kid is still stubborn.”
The coach nodded with a pained sigh, rubbing his temples. He knew he had to work extra hours supervising his student. “That’s just how he is, Sanghoon.”
His friend walked over to his monitor, clicking a few files that brought him to Jeonghan’s knee recovery progress. “How’s the Federation doing?”
“A mess.” Myungsoo let out a tired groan and slumped into the seat his student had just vacated. He leaned his head back against the rest, his frame heavy with pent-up frustration. “They’ve been hounding me to bring him back as soon as possible.”
“Because of the sponsorships?”
Myungsoo’s silence was enough to confirm.
“Does Jeonghan know?” Sanghoon asked after a short sigh, deep concern etched on his face. “He is still so far from skating solo. We would need approximately five more months after iceform to test his knee. It’s not going to be that fast.”
“No, he doesn’t. He would literally get back on the ice at four in the morning and start doing triples if he knew the Federation needed him back so soon.” Myungsoo groaned again, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s still months of basics. Then another three for singles and doubles. We’re looking at a year before he’s even a shadow of his old self. The Federation is expecting a comeback poster by the end of the quarter.”
“Then you need to let them know it’s not going to happen,” Sanghoon said, closing the file with a definitive click. “Regardless of how fast Jeonghan has progressed, using him just to lure back money is not right. The kid is still young. He is not responsible for the Federation’s greedy interests.”
“I’ve been constantly fighting Secretary Choi for months. She’s about to get sick of me telling her 'no' for the hundredth time.”
“She can get as sick as she wants,” Sanghoon countered, his voice losing its clinical edge and sharpening with protective anger. He turned the monitor slightly so Myungsoo could see the stark white lines of the surgical screws in the X-ray. “If he puts too much torque on that knee before the bone has fully integrated with the graft, it’ll blow. It won't be a 'hiatus' next time, Myungsoo. It’ll be a prosthetic.”
Myungsoo stared at the image, the reality of the metal inside his student’s body making his stomach churn. “The Federation doesn't care. They see ticket sales and broadcast ratings. They’re already talking about a ‘Coming Home’ documentary series.”
“Propaganda won’t fix a ruptured graft,” Sanghoon sighed, leaning back. “He’s at a critical stage. His brain has to relearn how to trust that leg. If the Federation insists, he will be skating toward an immediate exit instead.”
“Then I have no choice but to keep him away,” Myungsoo tipped his head back with a low grunt. “This will be a long battle.”
—
Iceform went smoothly over the past three weeks. Only because Jeonghan physically cannot risk anything that might lead to Myungsoo’s deathstare and constant nagging. Or threatening him back to the rehabilitation center if he attempted a high jump. He still felt like he’s being caged though, except his legs are now free to move around.
He took long, deep glides across the length of the rink, hands in his jacket’s pockets as his sharp blades scratched the ice in a soft hiss. His pace was controlled by a pair of eyes that belonged to none other than his coach who was laser-focusing on him. They had started with crossovers first, to rebuild his endurance and strength before he could move forward with basic spins and single jumps.
Like a baby skater, he thought to himself.
But Myungsoo’s warning was simply non-negotiable. Even if it humiliated him a little to practice a simple routine with the rest of the figure skaters who were focused with their sessions. They would do Triple Lutz back to back while Jeonghan was limited to edge work. They were understanding though, the way their eyes met his and gentle smiles offered instantly, careful not to bump into each other in shared ice.
“Good to see you back, Jeonghan hyung!” A junior male skater approached from behind and he greeted him back with a fistbump.
“Thanks, kid. Nice to see you today.”
He watched the boy skate off, launching into an effortless double toe loop just a few meters away. Jeonghan’s gaze lingered on the landing— clean, firm, and everything he wasn't allowed to do. He felt a sharp pang of envy, the kind that tasted like copper in the back of his throat. He turned back to his own path, focusing on the rhythmic hiss of his blades against the white surface.
Left foot. Right foot. Keep the core tight. Don’t lean too much on the right knee.
It was a monotonous loop of basic mechanics that made him want to scream. He was a champion who had conquered the world’s most demanding stages, yet here he was, being celebrated for simply not falling over while moving in a straight line.
“Your posture is slipping!” Myungsoo yelled from the boards, clapping his hands to snap him out of his thoughts.
Jeonghan sighed, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension. He kept his posture steady and resumed his strokes, carving forward and backward paths until he had successfully covered the rink in several laps. Then, the sharp blast of a whistle echoed through the rafters. Jeonghan skated back to the boards, facing his coach.
“Be back here tomorrow at 9 AM sharp. We’ll look into your edges and transitions next,” Myungsoo informed him, checking his watch. “Good job today. Any sign of pain?”
“No. My knee is fine,” Jeonghan answered truthfully. His coach gave a curt, satisfied nod before packing his gear. The rink was closing soon; the few remaining skaters were already disappearing into the tunnel toward the locker rooms.
Jeonghan waited until he was certain Myungsoo was out of sight. The corner of his mouth twitched. He turned his gaze toward the center of the ice— the forbidden zone where the high-impact jumps happened. His eyes lingered a little too long.
But before he could reach the center, the heavy groan of the door pulled his attention. He cursed lowly under his breath, thinking Myungsoo had caught him, only to find you standing there instead. Your eyes widened and your cheeks flushed from your own earlier session.
“Shit, sorry—” You scrambled to turn back.
Jeonghan snorted. “Running away already?”
You paused, mouth agape at the accusation. He wore that same infuriating smirk when you turned back to face him.
“From babysitting you? Clearly. That’s not my job.”
He let out an amused laugh, leaning over the barrier with his head tilted slightly. “Shame. I thought you might’ve missed my greatest performance.”
You rolled your eyes and were halfway out the door when he spoke again.
“Skate with me.”
You stopped.
“Show me how much you want to beat me,” he continued, his eyes glinting with mischief. “No audience, no judges. Just you and me.”
You hesitated, your mind racing. Usually, you wouldn’t give in to whatever he was plotting, but you remembered what Jihyo had said about finding a way to tolerate each other on the ice. Besides, if you backed down now, he’d never let you hear the end of it. And he was still in recovery, how much trouble could he actually cause?
“I am not responsible for your knees,” you said, eyeing his leg with suspicion.
“Scared I’ll fall, princess?” He raised a brow.
You groaned in annoyance and began lacing up your skates, opting for silence. Jeonghan grinned in victory, waiting until you stepped onto the glossy surface with your arms crossed over your chest.
“We don’t have much time before they kill the lights. Now what?”
Jeonghan chuckled at your impatient tone. With his hands buried in his pockets, he glided toward center ice, and you followed closely behind.
“A short race. Three laps around the perimeter. The first one to cross the center line wins.”
You frowned immediately, the proposal sounding more like a warning bell than a challenge. “Is that even permitted? I don't want to be the reason you end up back in the ER.”
“It’s just speed,” he shrugged, casual as ever. “Unless you’re planning to knock me down. That’s a different story.”
“Jeonghan,” you snapped, a sigh in disbelief escaped from you. “Can’t believe I am telling you this but that is literally dangerous.”
“Sweet,” He cooed softly, wearing the same infuriating grin. You wanted to smack him.
However, he did not back down. “The rink is empty, princess. There’s plenty of space to conquer. We won’t crash into each other if that is what you are worried about.” He glanced at you, his grin widening. “Ready?”
Your eyes shut in a silent prayer. God must have been testing you today.
“Three laps and I am getting out of here,” You said with a final tone and sent a sharp glare one last time to the grinning man in his black team jacket. If he wasn't suffering from a severe injury, you would have no problem beating his ass in a simple race. But Yoon Jeonghan is just as stubborn as you. You had learned that from all the years watching his practices from the side. The way he wore confidence on his sleeve even after a high-level accident is almost admirable, if only he was pleasant to deal with.
He slowly counted to three, and you both bolted forward. The race started fast. Your blades bit deep into the ice as you pushed for power. Jeonghan took the lead early, his long legs giving him an advantage, but you were more agile. As you hit the first corner, you swerved into the inner lane, effectively cutting him off and snatching the lead.
“Show off,” Jeonghan laughed, the sound trailing behind you.
He sped up, his long legs catching up as he chased you down. You heard the rhythmic hiss-crunch of his blades getting louder, and your heart thumped wildly against your ribs. His shadow loomed over you a second later, followed by that annoying, smooth voice.
“Still so slow, princess.”
You silenced him with a loud yell over your shoulder. “Am not!”
Jeonghan just laughed in satisfaction and surged forward, ignoring your outburst. You cursed under your breath as he opened up a wide gap. Adrenaline flooded your chest; your mind instinctively shifted into hunter mode, your pride refused to let him win. You maneuvered through the second lap, focused entirely on the evident trail he left behind.
As you rounded the final corner of the second lap, you put on a burst of speed, intentionally spraying a mist of ice over his skates as you blew past him. You transitioned into a backward glide for a split second just to stick your tongue out at him playfully.
“Now who’s slow?”
Jeonghan’s flustered face was so real it made you giggle, but he quickly chased after you right after, taking longer strides and eating up the distance in seconds. You shrieked, a mix of genuine surprise and laughter, and bolted forward with every bit of strength left in your feet. The sound of your combined laughter together with the echoes of the blades resonated through the empty arena, making the cold air feel suddenly warm as the two of you took turns to bypass each other in playful chase.
“Yah, you’re cheating!” His words were muffled with the piercing sound of his strokes.
You were looking back over your shoulder to see how close he was, sticking your tongue out one last time, when you realized you had run out of ice.
The boards were coming too close.
"Watch out!" Jeonghan’s voice dropped its playful edge, turning sharp with alarm.
You tried to dig your toe-pick in to brake, but your momentum was too high. You braced for the impact, but it never came. Instead, a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, hauling you sideways. Jeonghan had thrown himself into your path, intercepting your collision with the board.
But with his uncontrollled balance and the slippery ice, there was nowhere for his feet to go. The world spun for a second— a blur of white ice and bright overhead lights before you both went down with a startled gasp.
“Whoa—!”
You both hit the surface with a heavy thud.
Silence filled the rink.
Broken only by the sound of your heavy breathing.
You were sprawled directly on top of him, your hands clutching the fabric of his practice jacket. Jeonghan was flat on his back, his head resting just inches from the board he’d saved you from. For a moment, you were terrified you’d broken him— until you saw his face up close and suddenly time made a long, agonizing pause.
Both of you were breathless, eyes locked and skin flushed. The silence between you was heavy. Your hair fell around his face like a curtain, hiding the rest of the world and leaving just the two of you in the cold.
You could feel his heart hammering against your chest, a wild, frantic rhythm. Every time he exhaled, his warm breath brushed faintly against your lips, tasting of a cherry candy. Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. You were so close that the air between you felt electric, and in that moment, he stopped looking like a rival. Your mind was in a mush of scattered, confusing thoughts, filled with things you weren't ready to name. There was only the heat of him against the freezing rink, and the dark, searching look in his eyes that made your own heart skip a beat the longer you locked gaze with him.
His fingers moved slow, your breath hitched as he caressed your heated cheek softly. Until you heard a low, rumbling chuckle vibrating against your chest.
“Still a trouble, huh?”
Your heart was hammering, but you concealed it with a short huff.
“You’re the one who challenged me to a race,” you countered, though you didn't move to get up. His body heat was getting a little too comforting. You tried to push past the feeling with a bratty remark. “And for the record, I was winning.”
“In your dreams.” He mumbled with an amused smirk, fingers reached up to brush a stray lock of hair away from your forehead. The heat on your cheeks grew warmer.
His touch was light, but the mischief in his eyes had softened into something a lot more dangerous. “You okay? Nothing hurts?”
The way he asked you was so uncharacteristically gentle that your brain could not function properly. You managed to squeak a startled ‘yeah’ when the question reminded you of where you were. Your eyes immediately dropped to his legs, tangled with yours on the ice. You panicked, “Jeonghan, your knee—”
“It’s fine,” he quickly reassured, wincing slightly as he sat up and you immediately shifted so as not to put more unnecessary weight on him.
Then, the sharp clack of a heavy lock turning echoed from the main entrance. The overhead stadium lights buzzed, flickering once, twice, before half of the rink plunged into darkness. The "closing" was no longer a suggestion; it was happening.
"Shit." Both of you froze.
Jeonghan was faster than you expected, grabbing your hand to lead you both.
"The side exit," he whispered, his voice urgent. "If the night guard catches us, Myungsoo will have my head on a platter by sunrise."
"And I'll be banned from extra ice time for a month. This is your fault!" you quietly hissed back, panicked, as you both glided toward the edge of the rink.
"My fault? You were the one who wanted to kiss the boards," he retorted, though he was moving with practiced, quiet efficiency.
You had no time to question how he knew the escape route so fast. You reached the rubber matting and began tearing at your laces with trembling fingers. Heavy footsteps thudded in the hallway, the rhythmic jingle of a security guard’s keys getting closer.
"Hurry up, princess. At this rate, we'll be roommates in the Federation's dungeon," Jeonghan teased, though he was already shoving his feet into his sneakers without tying them. He grabbed your arm without hesitation, pulling you toward the narrow equipment door just as a flashlight beam swept across the far end of the ice. You ducked into the shadows of the back hallway, backs pressed against the cold wall. You were so close you could feel the heat radiating off his chest, both of you breathing hard. The flashlight beam cut through the crack in the door for a terrifying heartbeat before moving on.
As the footsteps faded, your panic shifted. You looked down at his right leg, then back at his face. "Your knee. We’re going to the clinic. Now."
"It's fine, I told you—"
"You fell with my entire weight on you, you idiot!" You didn't give him a choice, grabbing his jacket sleeve and dragging him through the darkened corridor toward the medical wing.
"Wow, aggressive. Is this a kidnapping? Should I scream?" Jeonghan muttered, though he followed you, his steps only slightly uneven. You paid no mind, heading straight towards the medical wing of the training centre.
Fortunately, Dr. Park was still in his office, looking a little frazzled as he organized his notes for the night. He jumped nearly a foot in the air when the door swung open, revealing the two of you— breathless, disheveled, and looking like you’d just escaped a crime scene.
"Jeonghan? Y/N? Why— why are you both here at this hour?" Dr. Park stuttered, looking flustered as he fumbled with his glasses. "Did something happen?"
"He fell," you blurted out, practically shoving Jeonghan into the examination chair, finger pointing at him like he just committed a crime. "Check him. All of him. Especially the knee."
Dr. Park’s face went pale. "He fell? Jeonghan, I told you— iceform! Only iceform!" He began to nag instantly, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled on his gloves. "I specifically warned Myungsoo that your proprioception isn't ready for—"
"Dr. Park, breathe," Jeonghan interrupted, leaning back with a lazy, practiced calm that didn't match the situation at all. "It was just a small trip. High-speed, sure, but a trip nonetheless."
The doctor spent the next ten minutes poking, prodding, and performing stability tests while muttering under his breath about 'reckless athletes' and 'early retirement.' You paced the small room, feeling both anxious and guilty. Your heart only slowed down when Dr. Park finally let out a long, weary sigh.
"It’s a miracle," the doctor muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "The knee is stable. No swelling. You got lucky, Jeonghan. If you had landed a few inches to the left, we’d be scheduling a second surgery tomorrow morning."
You let out a huge sigh in relief.
"See? Sturdier than I look," Jeonghan flashed you a triumphant, wicked grin before turning back to the doctor. "Now, about Myungsoo..."
Dr. Park paused, his hand on the medical chart. "I have to report this, Jeonghan. This was a clear violation of—"
"If you tell him, he'll double my rehab hours and I'll be stuck in the gym for another year," Jeonghan said, his voice dropping into a smooth, persuasive tone. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of the cherry candies he’d stolen earlier, sliding them across the desk like a high-stakes bribe. "Plus, I'll tell him you're the one who forgot to lock the side equipment door. He’d be very disappointed in your security protocols."
Dr. Park looked at the candies in bewilderment, then at Jeonghan’s cheeky face, and finally at you. He let out a groan of pure defeat. "You’re a menace. Both of you."
"Is that a yes?" Jeonghan tilted his head.
"Get out," Dr. Park nagged, waving them away. "And if I see a single millimeter of inflammation tomorrow morning, I'm calling the Federation personally."
Jeonghan stood up, winking at you as he draped his jacket over his shoulder. "Always a pleasure, Dr. Park."
The door clicked shut. You could feel your head throbbed.
“I am never going near you again.” You said with a firmitive tone, the ache suddenly felt ten times stronger after a minute of self-reflection.
Jeonghan had the audacity to grin wider, then push his right leg out to inspect his knee one last time. “Well, it was a fun race nonetheless. Especially when I had to play the hero at the last minute.”
Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment at the memory.
“Shut up, Jeonghan.”
—
Two months and a half passed since the news erupted. It was chaotic per se, especially when internal investigations and follow up inquiries were conducted on every single person who worked under the Federation, involving all levels of employees and even senior skaters. The tension inside the building was palpable, up to the extent that all training sessions inside the centre needed to halt until further notice when the authorities came into the picture.
It had taken a grueling period of time before the Federation called for a meeting.
Myungsoo took his seat on the far left side of the table, Jihyo situated next to him. Beside him were other coaches, managers and the board of directors. Mr Kim was in his usual position, taking the center of the long mahogany table, his gaze devoid of the usual kindness he reserved for quarterly dinners and gatherings with major sponsors.
Secretary Choi greeted everyone in the room after the seats were all filled.
“We will begin with the administrative restructuring following the internal audit,” she continued, sliding a series of documents across the mahogany surface. “As of eight o’clock this morning, the Federation has officially revoked Lee Daejin’s membership and all associated sponsorships. His career with this organization is terminated, effective immediately. Furthermore, given the nature of the recent controversy surrounding Kim Jiwon, her status has been moved to an indefinite hold. Her funding is frozen until the board deems her public image rehabilitated.”
A heavy silence fell over the room. To lose two senior skaters in one breath was unheard of.
“Because of the significant loss of funds due to the embezzlement discovery,” Secretary Choi’s eyes scanned the room, lingering on the management and the head coaches, “the Federation is tightening its belt. Stricter rules for facility usage will be implemented. We can no longer afford to keep the lights on for 'potential.' We are now a results-only facility. If a skater is not consistently achieving podium finishes, their ice time will be slashed.”
She turned a page, her manicured finger tapping a specific clause.
“Regarding those currently in recovery,” she looked directly at Myungsoo. “The grace period is over. Any skater on medical hiatus is expected to be fully cleared and back on competitive ice by the President’s Cup in the fourth quarter. If they cannot compete, their sponsorship will be terminated to make room for athletes who can actually generate revenue. We are not a rehabilitation center; we are a Federation.”
Mr. Kim, the Director, finally looked up from the center of the table, his gaze cold as it swept over every person present.
“Let me be clear to everyone in this room,” he said, his voice low and steady. “The Federation is currently a house of cards. We are lacking funds, and we are lacking public trust. To the world outside these walls, the remaining athletes are the only assets we have left. If they do not produce results, there is no funding. If there is no funding, there is no house for phenomenal athletes. Make sure every staff member and every skater understands that their skates are the only things keeping this roof over our heads.”
The meeting ended with a heavy silence that followed the coaches into the hallway.
Myungsoo, specifically, felt targeted. It was like the spotlights suddenly flashed on him. He knew he couldn’t stall Jeonghan’s comeback any longer, but gambling on his student’s performance after a fresh start from a year long injury was outrageous. He had tried to talk to Secretary Choi about it once everyone walked out of the room, asked if there were any chances for reconsideration in regards with the recovery period, but her answer was deemed final.
“It was Mr. Kim’s own decision. Nothing can be done to alter it.”
“Hated when monsters are thinking with money instead of actual brains,” He spat out angrily as he gripped the steel of the balcony hard. Jihyo let out a sigh in mutual agreement next to him.
“They used to be lenient. Now they just don’t care.” She stated with deep resentment, eyes softened as she observed the male coach’s distress. “How’s Jeonghan doing so far?”
“Improving. He passed the knee test after iceform. He’s allowed to get back on triples with supervision but still,” Myungsoo sighed, rubbing both his thumb and index over his eyes tiredly. “To secure the same legendary result is a fragile thing. He has to change to a new landing style. He’s still struggling to fine tune.”
“He doesn't have much time to struggle,” Jihyo murmured with concern. “Secretary Choi is already counting the days until the fourth quarter.”
While Jihyo is confident that her sister can acquire podium finishes, Myungsoo was unsure of how fast can Jeonghan recover without shortcuts. He would need to visit Sanghoon for further advice before he can start mentoring his student on proper solo sessions.
The sound of high heels clicking made both coaches shift their attention towards the approaching person.
Secretary Choi.
“Sorry to interrupt your session,” her voice was as smooth and professional as ever. “But I need to borrow Jihyo-ssi for a moment.”
The coach responded with a stiff nod, then whispered a quick, “I’ll see you later,” to Myungsoo before following the woman further into the empty conference room, her heart beating nervously.
Once they were seated, Secretary Choi spoke. “It’s regarding your sister.”
Jihyo’s ears perked up instantly.
“The Federation has been closely monitoring her past achievements,” she said with a careful nudge, though the statement was no less unnerving. “She is expected to maintain her gold in the President’s Cup.”
Before Jihyo could utter a defense, the woman in thick glasses continued, sliding her iPad across the table to show a bright screen of articles, videos, and netizens’ positive comments on the previous program.
“[TRENDING] The Golden Standard: Brands Scramble for Sponsorships as Y/N Delivers The Highest Score!”
“The Next Ice Princess is Finally Coming To Conquer The Stage!”
“From Growth to Gold: How Y/N’s Recent Victory is Inspiring.”
“We would like to keep the momentum.” She clicked the pause button on one of the clips playing the free skate. “Hence, your sister is required to achieve nothing other than 1st place.” Secretary Choi finished with a small, intimidating smile etched on her face.
“With all due respect, Secretary Choi, I think every one of us wants only the best for our skaters,” Jihyo responded calmly, her voice soft but steady. “We have been training hard with the aim of gold. It is a standard that everyone has been working hard for.”
“Correct, but this time around, it is no longer a standard. It is an order.”
Jihyo tensed. Secretary Choi’s smile only widened.
“We want the existing and incoming funds to remain tied to us. A slight drop in achievement would result in whispers of doubt. As per my briefing this morning, we are heading toward a low budget arising from the controversy. So,”
The woman leaned closer, fingers interlaced as she put both elbows on the table, her gaze fixed on the coach in a way that left no room for negotiation.
“Gold, or we will freeze all funding to your sister.”
When do u think you’ll finish echoes in the frost cause I wanna read it all😭😭
honestly no idea cause i don’t have specific timelines to post my updates since i’m a busy working adult 😔 but hopefully before jeonghan comes back from military 😁👍
tags: more insights into federation and the whole figure skating stuff, coach badass jihyo, new characters!! the usual enemies to lovers meal, domestic jeonghan and reader???, fluff if you squint, lots of bickering, jeonghan calls reader as princess hehe, he’s still annoying unfortunately
a/n: comments, reblogs and likes are so, so, much appreciated! thank you for those who have read the first chapter 🥺 here’s the continuation!! hope you’ll enjoy reading it <33 feel free to ask in my inbox if you have any questions :pp
PREV. CHAPTER | PART 02 | NEXT CHAPTER
The Federation made it mandatory for all national team members to attend the dinner, which usually took place after the program. It had been almost a month since the ceremony.
“Apologies for the delay,” Mr. Kim, one of the directors and a key figure, finally spoke with a professional smile etched on his face. “We had been trying to schedule this moment as soon as possible, but due to unforeseen circumstances, the dinner had to wait a little while.”
You cast a brief glance at the attendees— a mix of coaches, skaters, Federation officials, and even major sponsors. They were all important people who contributed to the success of the program. You felt a wave of pride sharing a table with the team again; just being able to attend the dinner meant your name still held a significant presence.
Some people might've thought your sister made it easy for you to enter. It wasn’t. It never had been. You remembered the first time you got into ice skating— those first few days of self-training without Jihyo as your coach while she was still competing. It took two months for basic forward and backward skating, crossovers, glides, and half-waltz jumps. It took two months for a toe loop, and six to stabilize a centered scratch spin. But of course, those successes did not come without failures. The bruises, the pain from a hard landing’s impact, and the injuries had become too common for you to mind them anymore.
It’s okay. It’s part of learning. You reminded yourself of that many times.
Things had been rough not only physically, but mentally too. People speculated that you would bring the same level of performance as your sister when you started joining the regional championships. There were whispers from unknown names questioning if you could deliver. Hearing that, your younger self was determined to prove them wrong. All you needed were your skates and ample time in the rink. Then, you gave them exactly what they were looking for.
By the time you managed to secure a spot in the Federation for junior programs, you knew it was only the beginning.
“The recent achievements from our dear skaters have brought immense pride to our country.” The corner of your mouth curved slightly into a smile.
Director Kim continued, “We hope that this success continues to flourish in the upcoming programs, and may this joy inspire all those who have worked hard this season to keep their enthusiasm alive. Do not stop until you have truly tasted the fruits of your efforts. I, along with the rest of the Federation, have always believed in your talent. And I have no doubt that you will make it happen.”
Applause filled the room after his speech. You lifted your glass to join in the toast, and soon the dinner officially began.
The table was filled with the light chatter of other national team members. You recognized familiar faces like Karina, Seulgi, Sunghoon, and Hyungwon. The coaches— Myungsoo, Krystal, and your sister Jihyo— were grouped at one table along with the choreographers. They served mini mushroom tarts with goat cheese filling for the appetizers and filet mignon with red wine reduction, paired with asparagus and truffle mashed potatoes for the main course. Safe to say, your stomach made a happy noise.
The dessert station caught your eye next. Once you were done with the heavy meal, you made your way toward the colorful selection on display. You picked up a small plate and scanned rows of chocolate mousse cups and delicate éclairs. You lingered at the table for a while, selecting a raspberry tart, when a familiar voice approached you from behind.
“Careful,” Karina said with a smile. “Those mousse cups look dangerous, but they're worth it.”
You responded with a soft chuckle. “I think we deserve a little bit of danger tonight, no?”
She giggled, her plate already occupied with mini cheesecakes, tiramisu shooters, and a few fruit tarts. You glanced at the amount, an eyebrow raised in suspicion, and she pointed at Seulgi, who was engrossed in a conversation with her coach. You formed an ‘O’ shape with your mouth, understanding.
Then, she lowered her voice and leaned in slightly. “Have you heard the news?”
You froze mid-bite, the strawberry halfway to your mouth. “What news?”
Karina glanced around, ensuring no one was close enough to overhear. Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “Daejin... is suspected of embezzlement.”
Your eyes widened. Daejin. The male lead in Ice Dance.
“That’s why he isn’t here tonight. Jiwon either,” the younger woman murmured, her eyebrows furrowed at the mention of her close friend. “They are currently conducting an internal investigation into him. Nothing has been confirmed yet, but Jiwon looked devastated when I caught her last Friday. She wouldn’t tell me the full story, but she cried a lot.”
Your chest tightened. Jiwon had once been one of Jihyo’s students back when you first joined the national team, before she transferred to ice dance. You had watched her countless times. She was a perfect fit for her category: young, talented, and endlessly kind. You remembered the times she had lent you her spare skates when yours needed repairs, or when she cheered for you so loudly during practice that it made you feel unstoppable.
The thought of someone like Jiwon, always bright and seemingly untouchable, being caught up in a scandal made your stomach twist. You couldn’t imagine the weight of it— having her name, her reputation, and even her future career shadowed by allegations.
Karina’s eyes softened as she noticed your expression. “It’s… awful, isn’t it? She’s so young, and all she’s ever wanted is to skate. And now…” Her voice trailed off.
You understood where this was leading. A tarnish on the Federation’s reputation usually meant an immediate exit. The higher-ups wouldn't be kind enough to let this go easily. It was unfortunate that Jiwon was in a pair category, where everything is linked, regardless of how hard you try to stay clean.
A pang of unease hit you then. It wasn’t just sympathy; it was a reminder that the world you were entering— one where artistry and discipline met politics and sponsorships— wasn’t just about jumps and medals. It was also about survival and navigating the weight of the Federation’s scrutiny. You took a slow breath, biting the edge of your tart, trying to process the storm of thoughts. One thing was certain: things would change soon, and you had no idea how it would turn out.
“Anyway,” Karina’s voice pulled you back from your thoughts, a gentle smile returning on her face, “Your performance was really beautiful last month. I always admire your elegance and clean moves on ice. You did amazing. Congratulations!”
Your cheeks immediately grew warm.
“Thank you.” You couldn’t help but to let out a shy laugh. “Seulgi and you were just as mesmerizing as a pair, truly. I envy those perfect synchronizations. I couldn't imagine myself doing it.”
The younger woman responded with a light giggle. “It gets better once you’ve learned how to move together. And if your partner doesn’t give you a torture of any kind during practices. ”
Mini cheesecake plopped into your mouth as you hummed softly in understanding. The mere thought of sharing the ice with someone sounds like a nightmare. “Guess I am forever doing solo then.”
“You can always come to us if you ever wanna try ice pairs. Coaching is free, and fun.” Karina gave you a playful wink before retreating to her seat. You let out a chuckle and shook your head lightly in amusement.
—
“Jieun falls behind you by 0.03.”
You looked down at your skates, your bottom lip caught in your teeth as you acknowledged the statement with a small hum. You were aware of your previous scores.
The smallest difference in points did bother you even after winning the gold. Not like you were ungrateful, but your mind simply chose violence and forced you into thinking that you had not exceeded the desired expectations.
Jihyo knew your concerns. Which was why she was back to the rink, leaning against the boards as she continued with her iPad in hand, rewatching your previous Nationals short program and free skate videos. “We have to make the gap wider next time. How are your quads?”
You let out a heavy sigh at the mention of them. “Progressing. Sometimes they’re clean, sometimes the landings are shaky.”
“You’ve landed them before. You can do it better.”
I just really have to, don’t I?
“Quads are so boring. What is it about them that makes people so obsessed?” you grumbled softly as you got up to enter the rink. The sound of blades cutting into the ice filled your ears as you skated to the center.
“It’s the highest form of technique. You need a perfect balance of strength and skill to pull them off. Not many skaters have that talent,” Jihyo answered before you glided away.
“But it’s just spinning in the air!” you shouted back when you reached the far end of the rink, attempting a quad Salchow and nearly falling. You hissed.
Jihyo sighed. “The scores favor complexity. You can’t change that.”
You attempted it again, now more focused and determined, totally ignoring your sister. One, two, three, four rotations. Quad Lutz. Success. You followed it with a triple Axel next and then— a soft landing.
Getting there.
Then you skated toward the left side of the rink with more speed, repositioning yourself with careful steps and launching into a Triple Axel-Triple Toeloop combination. The landing on the second jump was wobbly.
“Damn it,” your chest heaved, a low sigh leaving your lungs.
“Focus on your core!” Jihyo called, her sharp gaze fixated on you. She resumed monitoring your progress until your legs were sore and your thighs ached. You reattempted your quads, flips, and spins, aiming for cleaner, more powerful moves that made your blades dig deeper into the ice. The deep trails left behind showed how punishingly you had been perfecting your moves.
Jihyo called for a break. You finally found a chance to breathe.
“You have to keep up with your quads the same way Jieun maintains hers.” She handed you water and you took it immediately. “She’s consistent.”
“She lacks artistry. Her PCS is low.”
“But her TES is higher. She compensates for it,” Jihyo pointed out. “You shouldn’t be playing safe.”
You knew. Jieun was a known risk-taker, but she hadn't been as clean or expressive as you. You had learned to ensure clean executions, while she pushed herself to overtake the ice with challenging moves even if they didn't always reward her with a refined landing.
“If she hadn't fallen...”
“You would have won silver,” Jihyo finished for you.
Then the gold was purely luck. The realization hit you then. You chugged the water and finished it off with a low grunt.
“Jeonghan is a good example if you want to perfect your quads.”
Your head whipped toward your sister instantly, your face contorted in disgust. “Excuse me?”
She barked a laugh at your reaction. “I’m serious. He might be infuriating, but he doesn't play around with his jumps.”
“So you prefer him over your own sister.”
“That is not what I said.” Jihyo flicked your forehead, and you responded with an "ouch" and a pout. “As a coach, I notice potential, improvements, and areas that need to be patched up. Maybe try seeing him in a different light. I doubt he would provoke you as much if you both tried to tolerate each other on the ice.”
“You’re delusional. He’d never do that,” you waved your hand dismissively. “We’d try to trip each other instead of actually skating. That’s how bad it is.”
Jihyo snorted, holding back laughter. There was no point in correcting you. “Trust me. Give it a try when you’re ready. After all, you're on the same team. There’s no harm in sharing your expertise.”
You thought back to Yoon Jeonghan and remembered the things he had said just to piss you off.
“We’re both starving for recognition, aren’t we?”
Sharing? Definitely not.
—
After the practice, you headed to a nearby supermarket. Your apartment was running low on groceries and you could not afford surviving on granola bars and milk for dinner. Jihyo once again was not available to feed you so this time around, you had to make your own dinner. You were thinking of a simple pan-fried beef with rice, lettuce and kimchi. But now you are struggling to find them in the veggies section.
A low whine escaped you as your eyes scanned rows of different vegetables with no sight of lettuce.
“Whatever you are looking for, it’s not there.”
A deep voice from behind startled you.
Your head whipped around only to find an annoying guy dressed in an oversized hoodie with a cap on who is far too familiar.
“You again?”
Jeonghan raised his half-filled basket effortlessly to show you, “What? I can’t stock up my groceries too?”
You rolled your eyes and went back into searching your lettuce. The man made no effort to move somehow and you could feel irritation seeping in. You just knew he would say something stupid again and you have no energy to entertain it.
“Get lost, Jeonghan.”
Instead of listening to you, he grabbed a packet of perilla leaves and tossed it into your basket mindlessly. You gave him a questioning stare.
“Beef, soy sauce, garlic and kimchi.” He pointed out the items inside your basket. “That’s a whole ssam recipe. I am literally helping you.”
“I preferred eating it with lettuce.”
“Boring. Perilla leaves taste better.”
“It’s my dinner.”
“There’s no lettuce, isn’t it?” Jeonghan bit back with a smug smile, fingers pointing all the greens in the section. “No lettuce, no lettuce, no lettuce and.. nope, not a single lettuce.”
You released a tired sigh, staring at the perilla leaves in your basket like they were a personal insult. With a huff, you moved forward, hoping to lose him near the condiments.
No such luck. Jeonghan didn’t leave. He simply trailed along beside you, his hands buried in his hoodie pockets, looking like he was on a casual stroll rather than a grocery run.
"The rice is two aisles over," he noted, his voice echoing in the quiet store. "Unless you were planning on eating that beef raw? Bold choice for a National Champion."
"I was going to get the rice last," you snapped, turning into the sauce aisle. He reached past you, his shoulder brushing yours as he grabbed a specific bottle of sesame oil. He didn't even look at the price, just tossed it into your basket.
"Hey! I didn't say I wanted that," you protested, trying to hand it back.
"It’s for the ssam," he said, blocking your hand with his own. "You can’t have pan-fried beef without a proper dipping sauce. Salt, pepper, and this. Don't be a barbarian."
"I'm a barbarian for wanting a simple dinner?" You moved to the next shelf, trying to find the soy sauce you usually used. "I’m tired, Jeonghan. I’ve been on the ice since five am. I just want to go home, eat, and sleep without a lecture from a guy who thinks he’s a Michelin-star chef."
"I'm not a chef," he murmured, leaning over to inspect the soy sauce you were reaching for. "I'm just someone with eyes. That brand is basically colored salt water. Get the one with the gold label."
"The gold label is double the price!" You wanted to yell at him in a crowded supermarket but tone it down to an angry whisper instead.
"And triple the flavor. Your taste buds are as stubborn as your entry edges." He looked down at you, the brim of his cap shading his eyes, but his smirk was visible. "Besides, you’re a gold medalist now. Treat yourself to some decent sodium."
You grabbed the cheaper bottle anyway, just to spite him. "I’ll buy what I want."
"Fine. Enjoy your salty water," he shrugged, though he didn't move away.
As you headed toward the checkout, you felt his presence like a shadow you couldn't shake. He stayed half a step behind, occasionally pointing out things in your cart with a judgmental hum, critiquing your choice of eggs, questioning your brand of milk, and even mocking the way you organized your groceries on the conveyor belt.
"You put the heavy stuff on top of the bread," he pointed out, sounding genuinely pained. "That’s a crime, Princess. Total lack of spatial awareness."
"It’s my bread. If I want it flat, I’ll have it flat." you retorted, feeling the eyes of the cashier on both of you.
Jeonghan just shook his head, a playful, satisfied glint in his eyes. He waited until you had paid, leaning against a nearby pillar as you struggled to pack your bags.
"Need a hand, or are you going to fight the plastic bags too?"
"I've got it," you gritted out stubbornly, hauling the bags up. "Go away, old man."
"Don’t miss me too much," he shamelessly said, finally turning to head toward the exit. "Don't forget to wash the perilla leaves. They grow in dirt, in case you didn't know."
You had to control your reactions when you heard him. Only god knows how thin your patience was but the heavy plastic handles are already biting into your palms. "Miss him?" you muttered to the sliding glass doors as they hissed shut behind him. "I'd rather miss a landing on a triple Lutz."
The walk back to your apartment was a grueling ten minutes of shifting weight and trying not to let the "salty water" soy sauce glass clink too loudly against the eggs. Your mind was a mess. You were exhausted, yet the irritation he’d sparked felt like a shot of caffeine. You couldn't stop thinking about the way he had leaned in to check the gold-label sauce which was close enough that you could smell the faint, clean scent of his laundry detergent over the smell of frozen seafood and floor wax.
You hated how comforting he smelled.
Once inside your small kitchen, you dropped the bags on the counter with a heavy thud. Your eyes immediately landed on the perilla leaves. You reached for the trash can, ready to toss them just to prove a point to an empty room, but then you caught your reflection in the dark window. You looked pale, tired, and honestly, a little hungry.
With a defeated groan, you turned on the tap. You washed the leaves— twice— scrubbing them aggressively as if you were trying to wash away his smug expression.
Half an hour later, the smell of searing beef filled the air. You sat at your tiny table, wrapping a piece of meat inside a perilla leaf with a dollop of kimchi. You took a bite, bracing yourself to hate it.
Instead, the earthy, minty snap of the leaf hit your tongue, perfectly cutting through the richness of the meat. It was, unfortunately, delicious. It was complex and sharp, just like the man who had forced it into your basket.
"Damn it," you whispered, reaching for another leaf. You chewed slowly, staring at the empty chair across from you.
Perhaps you could tolerate a little bit of Yoon Jeonghan tonight.
summary: when your rival slash enemy suddenly shows up after a long hiatus, you find yourself seething with the same anger you've once buried deep.
tags: figure skater!au, enemies/rivals to lovers, jeonghan is a menace, reader is easily ragebaited, lots of tension, angst because i cannot live without a drama, inaccurate depictions of figure skating please just bear with me, just two people wanting to ruin e/o fr fr, more tags will be added soon hehe i don't wanna spoil
a/n: recently watched a lot of ice skating videos and i badly need an ice skater!jeonghan so i wrote it 😔 comments, likes and reblogs are much appreciated!!! it means so much to me as a new writer 🥺
PART 01 | NEXT CHAPTER
You have been to this arena more times than you have been at home.
The icy, cold air clinging onto your skin felt refreshing as compared to the humidity outside. The scorching heat made you sweat like crazy, you are not a fan of summer when the season comes. Ever since you were a kid, you always ditched activities that involved being exposed to the sun. The mere feeling of the sweat trickling down your forehead made you so irritated you could actually cry.
Your father had noticed you were a lot happier at the sight of white, frosty stage. The way your big, doe eyes gleamed at your sister showing off her incredible skating skills, freely rotating inside the rink with a few spins and jumps, at the people around her age playing with their friends in a circle. You were seven years old then, scared of balancing your feet together. You couldn't even stand on the ice without falling, even with the help of your sister, Jihyo.
When you turned fourteen, your parents surprised you with your first ever skates.
“So you can stop watching your sister from the side and start playing with her too,” your mother smiled, your father laughing softly next to her as he nodded in agreement and you had looked at them with so much love, jumping into their arms with a giddy heart. You promised to them you will become a great ice skater just like your sister.
And you did.
You grew up to become a competitive, fierce figure skater in the arena, trained by your sister who's now a national team coach after years of representing the country as Ice Princess. Her impressive talents and astounding achievements had shaped her into an untouchable figure in the industry, bringing home remarkable awards and honors, her mere presence so important that the skating Federation had agreed to her request to become a trainer instead of a player.
And now here you are, continuing the legacy of your sister albeit with a different style and energy, the one you have so carefully curated with endless training and hard work for years. Every blood, sweat and tears poured into your now growing career.
You took a deep breath.
The arena is filled with the familiar, chilled air and a long expectant silence. Rows of seats occupied, hundreds of people focused their gazes on the center of the empty crystal rink. This is your stage, this is where you shine the most.
Lights slowly dimmed to a moonlight blue, signaling the start of the show. Letting out a shuddering breath, you slowly emerged from the darkness and headed towards the center of the ice, head bowed and an arm curved above your head like a frozen wing. The first note of the cello pierced into the air, and you started your first move with soft elegance.
The music built up, so did your speed. You pushed off with multiple strokes, covering half of the rink with effortless glides that made it look like you were hovering above the ice rather than carving the sharp blades into the surface.
You let your mind drift off to its own world as your body controlled the pace. The surrounding became a blur of lights and hues of midnight colors before you executed your first act, your arms pulled tight to your chest as you jumped. Then one, two, three revolutions. Your foot landed with a soft graze on ice, your free leg extended behind in a perfect line— quadruple toe loop, orchestrated with grace. The audience gave a loud clapping. Your heart bursted in excitement.
The music slowed, and this is where you showed off your most crucial sequence. You immediately moved into a series of turns, brackets and twizzles, letting your body speak the emotions in the music as you danced flawlessly. Every moment is deliberate, every glance towards the judges filled with intensity. As the song reached its final peak, you centered yourself with the final spin, transitioning from a camel spin into a low, powerful sit spin, before ending with a perfect layback.
The music stopped abruptly. You snapped out of the spin into a final pose, chest heaving, the cold air burning sweet in your lungs. For a heartbeat, there is total silence. Then, the roar of the crowd hit you. Your eyes opened with a wide smile that screamed “I finally made it”, the loud applause from the audience almost brought you to tears of joy.
You skated your way back to the Kiss and Cry, your eyes immediately found your sister who’s now hugging you tight, her hands rubbing your back gently to soothe you as tears already painted on your cheeks— unable to contain your emotions the moment you saw her. She murmured soft praises, letting you know that you've done amazingly. Your chest swelled with pride, and you knew at that moment that you already won even before the screen flashed your final scores.
The lights from the cameras were blinding as ever, and you stepped into the backstage with the biggest smile once the ceremony ended. You carefully brushed your thumb across the gold medal in awe, admiring how shiny it looked in your palm.
It's your first ever gold.
You had come so far, yet you still couldn't believe that it is now yours.
As you walked through the hallway, you spotted a familiar tall figure leaning against the wall. You were still clutching a bouquet of lilies when you finally saw his face.
Draped in a designer overcoat that looked far too expensive for a skating rink, you immediately recognized him.
Yoon Jeonghan.
He wasn't even in the lineup this year— a "lingering injury," the press release had said— but here he was, watching you with that familiar, hooded gaze.
"There she is," he said, his voice smooth and terrifyingly calm. He didn't move, but the atmosphere in the hallway shifted instantly. "The golden child of the evening."
You clenched your fist.
He straightened up and walked towards you, his footsteps slow on the cold tiles. When he reached you, he didn't go for a handshake or a formal nod. Instead, he reached out, his fingers grazing the gold medal resting against your chest. He tilted it toward the light, the reflection of his face caught his eyes.
You tensed, eyes narrowed with a low burning of irritation inside your chest.
"It looks good on you," he murmured, though his expression didn't look like he meant it. He looked up then, and there it was— that stupid, smug smile that made your blood boiled. "Almost as good as it would have looked on me."
"Jeonghan," you said, your voice tight. "I didn't think you’d bother showing up to an event you weren't even fit to skate in."
He let out a soft, melodic laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "And missed this? You were beautiful out there, princess. Truly. That quad toe loop.. almost steady. A little shaky on the landing, but the judges always were suckers for your artistry when the technique falters."
Go to fucking hell, you could have said. But any words that perfectly captured your pure hatred towards him won't do any good. Jeonghan loved getting a heated reaction out of you.
You noticed he stepped closer, leaning in until you could smell his citrusy cologne, a sharp contrast to the metallic scent of the ice. You almost pushed him away.
"Congratulations," he whispered, low, his smile widening just enough to show a hint of teeth. "Enjoy the view from the top. Cherish it until I come back next season."
He patted your shoulder twice— a condescending gesture that felt like a challenge— and turned to walk away, leaving you standing in the cold hallway with your heart hammering against the gold medal he’d just mocked.
“Asshole,” You lowly hissed under your breath, sharp nails digging into your palm, so hard you almost drew out blood. With an exasperated sigh, you stomped towards your car as quickly as possible and got inside. The gold medal sat on the passenger's side now felt more like a bitter reminder than a sweet victory.
You went home with a burning desire.
And that is to prove to everyone that you will remain your place at the top.
—
“Again! Start from the beginning!” Jihyo shouted from the boards, her tone ruthless and sharp as she monitored your movements closely. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you were skipping two steps before your jump.”
Your sigh came out louder than intended, your feet dragging you back to the center of the ice as you repeated the sequence. Long strokes, followed by a clean triple axel, then a double toe loop. Your blades landed with a soft graze against the ice.
Success.
“Perfect!” Jihyo smiled now, arms crossed over her chest as she continued supervising your flow, making sure there wasn’t even a hint of a mistake you could possibly make. Sometimes you thought she enjoyed being your coach more than being your sister—though you knew that was just her fulfilling her duties and responsibilities as a national team trainer.
Still, you wished you had sister privileges, for her to be a little more lenient on you.
“You are killing me,” you told her as you tried to catch your breath during your break.
Jihyo only laughed and ruffled your hair. “Why are you tired so fast? This isn’t you.”
You grumbled softly and took a seat on the nearest bench, snatching a water bottle. Your sister might’ve overestimated your stamina once again. “The program literally ended yesterday.”
“You were the one who asked me to look into your quads,” Jihyo shot back with a playful shrug, not a trace of guilt on her face for bullying her own sister.
“I didn’t say we had to do it today!” you whined.
Jihyo paid no attention, though a fond smile tugged at her lips. She was aggressively typing something on her phone when she spoke again.
“Unfortunately, your sister is only free today. I’m heading to Busan tomorrow for junior team training, so I won’t see you for two weeks. Maybe.”
“Why is that so long?” you pouted.
Jihyo flicked your forehead. “You’ll be fine. Besides, you’re going to enjoy your free time, no?”
You thought about it for a moment. Technically, that was what you’d be doing— to compensate for the rough months of back-to-back training. Still, a certain irritating voice lingered in the back of your mind.
Cherish it until I come back next season.
You shut your eyes and let out a loud groan.
Jihyo shot you a puzzled look, one eyebrow raised— clearly demanding answers.
“Nothing. Just got reminded of something.” You hoped she’d drop the subject. You didn’t have the energy to talk about him yet. But you knew better than to think you could escape your sister with a vague excuse.
“Spill,” she warned, “before I ban you from entering my apartment.”
You whined in defeat. “Fine. It’s him.”
“Jeonghan?” She snorted, shaking her head as if the news didn’t surprise her at all. She sent a quick reply to whoever was texting her before gathering her belongings. “You two have been at each other’s throats since Junior Prix. You’re not even competing against him.”
You rolled your eyes. “That doesn’t stop him from being a total douchebag.”
“Or maybe he just likes having your attention,” Jihyo said far too quickly, you almost gagged. “Anyway, practice ends early today. I’ve got an urgent meeting with the choreographers. I’ll drop by later before I leave for Busan, ‘kay?”
You hummed in response and waved goodbye.
Left alone, you looked back at the rink, pondering for a moment before deciding to resume practice. This time, you took long strides across the icy surface, covering half the rink with short spins in between. There was no music to guide you, no choreography set in mind— just a way to let your body relax, your head breathe, and your thoughts settle before they caused more damage than they already had.
You always took comments about your skating seriously— even when they came from someone you wanted to strangle the most.
It was unfair that Yoon Jeonghan also happened to be one of the most reputable professional figure skaters.
Before his injury, everyone knew what he was capable of. Winning gold after gold at Nationals for three consecutive years was beyond impressive. He’d set the bar impossibly high for both the men’s and women’s singles categories. No one had achieved a perfect Grand Slam before him.
The media loved the Ice Prince to bits.
You remembered when his fame skyrocketed— sponsorships, brand deals, and international recognition turning him into the Federation’s favorite, much like your sister during her prime.
What hurt the most though was when the comparisons started.
After Jihyo retired from competitive skating, the public quickly shifted their attention to the next successor. As her sister, your name was already plastered across headlines and media outlets— the next Ice Princess, announced almost immediately after Jihyo’s departure.
The pressure took its toll.
Especially when you could only secure bronze and silver medals. You cried after every program, alone in your room— always so close, yet never quite there. No matter how much you trained, luck never seemed to be on your side.
Online articles were brutal. Medals only mattered if they were gold. They didn’t care how you earned them, how difficult it was just to secure a spot for Nationals. They only cared about results.
It wasn’t shocking that they favored Jeonghan in the end.
He had everything they wanted.
The country’s pride.
The same person who ruined what was supposed to be your most memorable day.
“I’m going to break his fucking knees the next time he’s back on the ice,” you muttered angrily as you skated to a stop.
The clock told you you’d been in the arena for three hours. Your stomach growled on cue. With a tired sigh, you headed for the exit, washed up quickly, and went to grab a very late lunch.
—
Fate could be really funny sometimes.
Just as you were about to pay for your ramen at the counter, a familiar cologne hit you like muscle memory— unwelcome and impossible to ignore. Your eyes shut instantly, silently praying to God it wasn’t someone you didn’t want to see.
“What a healthy choice of food you’ve got there.”
Fuck.
“Shut up.” You brushed past him with an eye roll and stepped up to the counter. Jeonghan’s chuckle followed close behind.
Moments later, he placed his own ramen on the table. You spared it a brief glance and immediately furrowed your brows when you realized it was the exact same one you’d bought.
The audacity.
You shot him a glare after the cashier handed you your change. “So very healthy of you.”
You made your way to the far corner of the convenience store to start preparing your ramen, not giving him the chance to speak— but of course, he followed. Eventually, the two of you ended up seated at the same long table facing the street.
“Don’t get too excited. I know you’ve always wanted to eat with me,” Jeonghan said shamelessly.
You had to stop yourself from stabbing him with your chopsticks. Not only was he insufferable, he was also painfully narcissistic.
You slurped your noodles louder than necessary.
“Just finish your damn ramen and don’t talk.”
“Relax,” he cackled, clearly amused as he stirred his noodles. “You’re so easy to rile up.”
“You’re so annoying.”
Jeonghan flashed you a wicked grin, then stole a mini sausage from your bowl and popped it into his mouth. “Hm. Not bad.”
You sighed. “You couldn’t get them yourself?”
“Out of my budget,” he replied before slurping a generous mouthful of noodles.
You snorted and went back to eating. “Maybe if you hadn’t spent all your money on designer clothes, you wouldn’t be eating convenience store ramen with stolen sausages.”
“I’ll get rich again once I’m back on the ice,” he muttered through a mouthful, chopsticks pointed at you accusingly. “And those designer clothes are gifts, by the way. I never spent a single cent on them.”
“Jeez, sorry for getting my facts wrong,” you said dryly. “I never bothered reading articles written by your obsessive fans.”
“I think it’s about time you do. They’re amazing.”
“No, thank you.” You plastered on a forced smile. “I don’t have time to know more about you than what’s necessary.”
“And what’s necessary?”
You didn’t look at him as you took a slow sip of your strawberry tea. “Knowing when you’ll stop bothering me.”
He finished his ramen with a satisfied hum, the smile never leaving his face as he tipped back his can of beer. His eyes stayed on you— unwavering, deliberate— until you became painfully aware of the way you sat, the way you breathed.
He let the silence stretch. You hated it.
Then, “Someone has to keep an eye on the next Ice Princess,” he said lightly. “After all, we’re both starving for recognition, aren’t we?”
Your jaw clenched.
The way he said it— casual, knowing— made it worse. Because you couldn’t deny what he was implying. You stayed seated even when he rose, his shadow falling just short of your feet.
“As long as our names are still breathing on the same stage,” Jeonghan continued, voice lower now, “I’ll make sure it’s mine they’re paying attention to.” He paused. “That’s how you become the Federation’s favorite.”
He stepped closer— not enough to touch, but close enough that you could smell that damn citrus cologne again.
You finally looked up at him, eyes narrowed in pure bitterness. “Get over yourself.”
His smile widened, eyes glinting. “I already did.” He straightened, grabbing his empty cup, voice intentionally softened as a way to get under your last nerves. “Try to keep up.”
And just like that, he walked away— leaving the space beside you colder than before, and your chest tight with the realization that he was messing with you again.
You dumped your ramen bowl a little too aggressively before you stepped out of the store, cold evening air immediately hit your face. You let out an angry huff and walked away with an important plan on how to beat him. Off and on ice.
summary: you want him quietly, knowing he will never be yours.
Jeonghan looked like a person who was never meant to be yours.
It wasn’t a painful thought, just a strangely calm one—like realizing something beautiful existed without ever needing to belong to you. Your eyes found him almost unconsciously, drawn in by the way he stood there so easily, as if the world had made room for him without question.
He smiled when your brother spoke, soft and unguarded, the kind of smile that felt warm even from a distance. Heaven’s most favorite angel, you thought. Joshua was excitedly talking about his new job, hands moving as he spoke, and Jeonghan listened with genuine interest, nodding along, laughing at just the right moments.
They shared a laugh—light, effortless—and you found yourself smiling too without realizing it. It was nice, watching him be happy. You told yourself not to stare, but his voice carried so gently through the space that it was hard not to listen. You wondered what he found amusing, what little things made him laugh like that.
Maybe someday, you thought softly, I could make him laugh too.
“Excuse me…”
A small girl softly approached you from behind, pulling you out of your thoughts. Her big eyes were fixed on a particular row of toys just next to you before she pointed her tiny finger toward it.
“Can I have that pink little box over there?”
“Oh—hi! Yes, sure. Hold on.” You immediately scanned the row for a pink box and found it, quickly handing it over to the little girl with a fond smile. It was a Sanrio-themed collectible. “Here you go.”
The girl flashed you a big grin and bounced excitedly. “Thank you!”
Your heart softened at the sight—more so when she ran back to her parent, hands full with her new friend. You watched as her mother picked her up with a gentle coo and headed to the counter, paying for the new addition to her daughter’s growing collection of figurines. They must be a nice family.
“Hey, ready to go eat? Have you found your stuff yet?”
Your brother, Joshua, suddenly appeared beside you. You glanced around instinctively, but there was no sign of his friend lingering nearby.
“Yeah. Let me pay real quick, then we can leave. Where’s Jeonghan? Wasn’t he with you just now?”
“His sister called. He had to go back home to settle something.” Joshua was quick to snatch the new keyboard you’d been eyeing for months—something you’d saved up for because it was damn pricey. “Give me that. I’ll pay.”
“Hey! I can pay. I’m not broke,” you huffed, and Joshua laughed.
“I know,” he said easily. “Just let me treat my sister, okay?”
You shot him a look.
Then what was the point of me saving up..
⸻
It was a harmless crush at first.
Jeonghan had been a constant in your life since you were ten years old, ever since his family moved into the same town. He had always been within the same orbit as you— went to the same school, crossed paths often. You had heard of his name in class, the soft giggles of your classmates when they watched him play football from the window. You would stop writing your notes too, joining the girls as you paid attention to the green field, the way he showed off his skills that made you swoon helplessly.
Jeonghan has always been good in football, or any sport ever. When he challenged Joshua in basketball during their free time, or when he played badminton with his sister at the backyard. Sometimes you would have joined them too, teaming up with his sister, and you always knew you two would lose. Because Yoon Jeonghan also would cheat for fun, and Joshua was not any different from him either. The two of them could easily passed off as twins and people wouldn't have known. Both were just as irritating and evil. That never mattered to you though. The time spent with them brought the happiest smile to your face, and you cherished them deeply.
Until they went off to university in Seoul years later, then you felt a little empty. Somehow, the two of them stuck together, while you were left behind to stay with your parents. But you didn’t complain; moving out felt like too much of a hassle anyway.
Luck was on your side when your university turned out to be not far from home. Time with family stretched on, unlike your brother, who had to learn independence in the city. It also meant that you didn’t get to see Jeonghan as often as you used to—which, in turn, meant that your feelings eventually faded with time.
You were confident you had forgotten your little crush on him.
Not until he came back one random evening with new hair.
“Oh my, red looks good on you, dear!” your mom praised as soon as he stepped in, your brother only a few steps behind him as he closed the door. Jeonghan reacted with a sheepish smile as he greeted her and your heart started beating like crazy.
He looked so different.
Oh my god. It shouldn’t have had such a big impact on you, but you found yourself frozen in your little kitchen the longer you stared. Maybe it was because not many boys you’d seen with red hair pulled it off so well—but somehow, he managed to knock the breath out of you, one you hadn’t even realized you were holding.
“Quit staring. We know you want to eat him.”
Your head whipped instantly toward your brother, cheeks flaming. You haven't even realized he had wandered deeper into the kitchen. “Shut up—! Also, what the hell?" The things your brother would say could be very unpredictable, but you were never ready what came out of his evil mouth.
Joshua had that wicked smile he always pulled whenever he teased you. He definitely knew his sister's silly crush on his best friend, but never thought of it too seriously. He took out a banana milk from the fridge before taking a long sip, sighing at the familiar taste. “Don’t I look handsome too? Why do you never look at me like that?”
You rolled your eyes and went back to chopping the cucumber in thin slices for the side dishes. Dinner was almost ready. “Mom always does. Why are you so ungrateful?”
“I need validation from my sister sometimes too.” He responded with a small pout, stealing one slice of cucumber and loudly crunching on it to piss you off. You ignored him and focused on plating instead, making sure everything was in place.
Dinner was loud in the familiar way it always was—your mom asking Joshua about his first week at work, Joshua complaining about the commute and his boss in the same breath, Jeonghan chiming in here and there when asked, voice calm and easy.
You kept your eyes on your plate.
You told yourself it was nothing. Just dinner. Just Jeonghan sitting across from you, red hair catching the kitchen light whenever he moved, sleeves pushed up casually as if he belonged there. Just the way he listened—really listened—whenever someone spoke.
“So,” your mom turned to you, “last semester already, right?”
You looked up a little too quickly. “Yeah. Almost done.”
Jeonghan glanced at you then, attention shifting fully in your direction. “That’s impressive,” he said. “Must be stressful.”
“A little,” you admitted, fingers tightening slightly around your chopsticks. “But I’m almost there.”
He nodded, eyes soft. “You’ve done well.”
It was such a simple thing to say. Still, warmth crept up your neck, your heart giving an unnecessary little jump.
A few moments later, you reached for one of the side dishes—only to feel your fingers brush against someone else’s. You froze.
“Oh—sorry,” Jeonghan said at the same time you did.
Your eyes met briefly. His hand was warm, close enough that you could feel it even after he pulled away. You noticed, fleetingly, the faint pink dusting his ears.
“It’s okay,” you said quickly. “You can—”
“No, it’s fine,” he interrupted gently, sliding the dish toward you instead. “You should have it.”
"T-thank you.”
You focused very hard on your plate after that, face warm, heart racing for reasons you refused to acknowledge. From the corner of your eye, you caught Joshua smirking. That idiot will absolutely say something once he had the chance. You just groaned in silence, mentally bracing yourself for the inevitable nightmare.
Later, as your mom asked Jeonghan about his work, he shrugged lightly. “Still freelancing. It’s flexible. Gives me time to breathe.”
“That sounds nice,” you said without thinking.
He looked at you again. “It is. Especially when things get busy.” Your chest tightened at the way his voice softened—like the words were meant just for you.
By the time dinner ended and you stood to help clear the table, your head felt light, thoughts scattered. As you stacked the plates, Jeonghan spoke quietly beside you. Your breath hitched.
“By the way,” he said, “dinner was really good.”
You paused. “A-ah, thanks.. I was just helping mom."
He smiled. “I missed eating here.”
Your heart stumbled. "You did?”
“Yeah,” he said simply.
And just like that, the harmless crush you were so sure you’d outgrown made itself known again—quiet, warm, and very much alive.
—
You swore you were never going to do anything about your feelings—but of course, your heart betrayed you. Of course, it refused to stay still, moving on its own toward a want you were trying so hard to avoid.
He wouldn’t see me that way.
You’d told yourself that plenty of times, usually while standing in front of the mirror, cataloging every little thing you’d learned to dislike. You didn’t think you were ugly—not exactly—but you’d never had the confidence to call yourself attractive either. Whatever good visuals your parents had blessed your brother with hadn’t quite made it to you. So you learned instead—how to look decent, presentable. The basics of makeup, picked up after you turned twenty, tutorials watched late at night with the volume turned low.
Most days, you didn’t care much. You stuck to a skincare routine that worked, kept things simple. But beauty standards had always been especially cruel to women, and sometimes you just wanted—selfishly—to fit in. Just once.
Maybe if I were prettier, he’d look at me longer.
You sighed, immediately annoyed at yourself. If that were true, then it would be devastating to know he chose looks over personality.
But what kind of personality did you even have?
You weren’t sure. Not even an MBTI test could convince you who you really were. You could be two entirely different people depending on the situation, and God knew how confusing that felt—like you were constantly adjusting, never quite settling.
So what kind of person did he like?
You didn’t know. But according to Joshua, his best friend had dated a few people back in university. You’d never asked for details, afraid you’d hear something you weren’t ready to accept. Your brother hadn’t said much anyway—only that he knew one of them, that she’d been in the same film class as him.
That alone had been enough to make your chest tighten.
And then your curiosity grew teeth.
You blamed it on having too much free time alone in your room—definitely not procrastinating on job applications like you were supposed to—and somehow found yourself on Jeonghan’s Instagram. You didn’t follow him. You weren’t sure why. Maybe it felt safer that way.
His profile was neat. Clean. Not overly curated, but intentional. A few selfies, some candid shots, pictures of coffee cups and city streets. He looked comfortable—like someone who knew exactly where he belonged. Then you scrolled.
And there it was.
An older post, dated years back. Jeonghan, younger, softer somehow, standing next to a girl with long hair and a bright smile. They were close— not touching, but close enough that it meant something. Her hand hovered near his sleeve. His head tilted slightly toward her.
The caption was simple. Too simple.
You stared at it longer than you meant to.
She was pretty. Effortlessly so. The kind of pretty that didn’t look like it tried. The kind that made your chest ache in that quiet, embarrassing way. You imagined her laughing, imagined her speaking to him, imagined him looking at her the way he never looked at you.
Your fingers hovered over the screen.
This was stupid, you told yourself. It was old. It didn’t mean anything now. Everyone had a past. Still, something settled heavy in your chest.
You set your phone down and leaned back against your pillow, staring up at the ceiling.
You weren’t jealous.
Not really.
Just… small. Momentarily, painfully small.
And it scared you— how easily your heart compared, how quickly it folded in on itself, wanting something it had no right to want. You closed your eyes, willing the feeling away. But your heart, traitor that it was, stayed loud.
You picked up your phone again, scrolled back up until the screen showed the latest updates of him. You chose to admire his face instead to dull the pain.
His hair is black now, much shorter, made his sharp jawline more prominent. You knew he always looked good, long hair or short, and god really made sure he was his favorite because how could someone looked so breathtaking like that.
You let out a low sigh, arms wrapped tightly around your bunny pillow, eyes never leaving your screen. You remembered the day you went to that store with your brother and was surprised to see Jeonghan there coincidentally. You remembered your heart pounding as loud as it usually did, and the smile you saw on his face as his gaze locked with yours.
It felt like a dream. More so when he spoke to you.
"Hey, bug. 's been a while."
You found yourself smiling at the flashback, proving that the crush you had on him which was still very alive, and you couldn't help it but to rewind the scene in your head. But then you remembered the old post on his Instagram, how he looked like with someone he loved, and your heart ached a little.
And you started to wonder how it would feel like if he was yours.
— situationship!partner mingyu, who admitted first that he’s romantically and emotionally unavailable but yearned for intimacy, who first mentioned it will be no strings attached and he truly has no desire to being committed, who confidently said that nothing can ever go wrong with this arrangement as long as both of you respected each other’s boundaries and spaces, and the rest of the nonsense he has ever said for the sake of having you close—
yeah, he’s an idiot. he normally wouldn’t care for shit like this, at least nothing serious happened with his previous partners. but it’s you. it’s fucking different.
his eyes narrowed, jaw visibly clenched the longer he watches you dancing with some guy. having fun with someone else who’s not him. he knows he’s being ridiculous at the moment, downright hypocrite for reacting this way and he’s even more frustrated at himself for being.. jealous?
“fuck,” he lowly grunts under his breath, throwing his head back upon coming to realization, eyes flutter shut. no alcohol can make him sane— his blood boils, and suddenly the room feels hot. it pisses him off. the new guy pisses him off. his mind overflows with deep irritation, jealousy, unreasonable rage, it’s toxic. but he’s desperate.
it’s you. he can’t lose you.
mine, mine, mine.
mingyu curses for the last time and quickly gets up, determined to get what he wants. he will show you who you really need.
I have a question about Mingyu in "when it's one-sided"... so there's a part where reader goes through all their little moments with Mingyu like the outfit compliments or when he smiles wider when they make eye-contact... etc... it made me wonder did he have feelings for reader at any given point? Or was he just being friendly? But then again if he was just being friendly the change in attitude shouldnt have been as drastic 🤔 yeah i was just curious about your own headcanons on what kind of something they had prior to the events of the story 🫣
good question.. did he? 🫨🫨
mingyu is naturally a sweetheart. he treats everyone with the same kindness, regardless of whether he’s close with the person or not. he’s just full of love! he wants to give it to everyone and anyone— so mingyu can be friendly with how he treats reader, that’s just how he is!
but sometimes, mingyu’s actions can be a little confusing. and this confusion leads to reader thinking that there’s something more between them. instead of saying that he has feelings for reader, perhaps we can say that he was interested, at some points. whether or not he actually likes reader— i will leave this to your imagination 😁
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