pairing — soccer!kim juhoon(cortis) × figure skater!jung hayun(oc)
genre — established relationship, high school sweethearts, angst with comfort, miscommunication, soft domestic intimacy, growing pains, coming-of-age, competitive sports au, long distance tension, jealous but not toxic, mutual devotion, acts-of-service love language, emotional realism
themes — academic & athletic pressure, public life vs private love, insecurity, fear of growing apart, quiet love vs loud love, almost-breakup, reconciliation, choosing each other repeatedly, first love that refuses to end.
content warnings — miscommunication, jealousy (non-cheating), emotional burnout, minor injury (ankle strain), fever from exhaustion, family health scare (grandmother hospitalization), public scrutiny/media attention, temporary breakup, crying (a lot), emotional vulnerability, insecurity in young love
no toxic manipulation / no cheating / no physical abuse
rating — PG-13, romantic tension, kissing, soft physical intimacy, suggestive undertones (but nothing explicit)
When they finally pulled away from each other, the fireworks were still bursting overhead, scattering gold across the night sky.
Hayun’s cheeks were warm.
Juhoon cleared his throat softly, almost embarrassed now that the moment had passed. His jacket was still draped around her shoulders, sleeves hanging past her hands. He adjusted it gently, smoothing the collar without thinking.
“You’re smiling,” she whispered.
They started walking back toward their friends, fingers intertwined again like nothing had ever wavered between them.
He was still carrying her purse.
James spotted them first.
“Oh my God,” he groaned dramatically. “Look at their faces.”
Seonghyeon squinted. “They look… shiny.”
Mina gasped loudly. “WAIT.”
Diana didn’t waste a second — she raised her camera and snapped three rapid photos before they even reached the group.
“Media club thanks you,” she said, already reviewing the shots.
Hayun tried to hide behind Juhoon’s shoulder.
He stepped slightly in front of her instinctively.
“What are you doing,” she laughed.
Younghee crossed her arms, observing them with narrowed eyes.
“They’re insufferable,” she muttered.
Juhoon’s hand hadn’t left Hayun’s waist since they walked back.
When they stood still, his fingers automatically rested there like it was muscle memory. When she shifted slightly, he adjusted with her.
James shoved his phone toward them. “Group selfie. Now.”
They all crowded together under the lantern glow.
Juhoon ended up at the back — towering over everyone, naturally.
Hayun stood in front of him.
His arms wrapped around her from behind, hands resting lightly at her waist, chin hovering just above her shoulder.
The photo captured Hayun mid-laugh, Juhoon looking down at her instead of the camera.
This time Hayun leaned back into him more deliberately.
Juhoon rested his cheek briefly against her hair.
Diana reviewed the shots with dramatic intensity.
“Wow,” she breathed. “You two look… stupidly in love.”
Hayun buried her face in her hands.
James insisted on a “candid.”
Which turned into Juhoon adjusting Hayun’s sleeve again while she rolled her eyes.
Seonghyeon demanded a “couple pose.”
So Juhoon, unbothered, pulled Hayun gently closer and kissed her temple.
“You’re disgusting,” Mina said, smiling.
Keonho stepped in for a quieter shot — all of them shoulder to shoulder, lanterns glowing behind them.
At one point, Hayun tried to reclaim her purse again.
Juhoon shifted it higher on his shoulder without looking at her.
He leaned down slightly. “Let me.”
They lingered long after most students started leaving.
Hayun rested her head lightly against his chest while they listened to James retell a completely exaggerated version of the fireworks.
“Honestly, the way they were standing? Cinematic,” James declared.
Martin shook his head but smiled faintly.
“They’re better,” he said quietly.
Eventually, the courtyard emptied almost completely.
Juhoon adjusted the jacket around Hayun one more time.
He didn’t let go of her hand the entire walk out of campus.
And as they passed under the final string of lanterns, illuminated softly against the night sky, they really did look perfect.
Not untouched by hardship.
The kind of love that had almost slipped away —
And was now being held carefully,
Nationals were two weeks away.
The countdown sat quietly in the back of everyone’s mind, even when no one said it out loud.
Hayun felt it in her ankles.
In the way Coach Rami’s voice grew sharper during corrections.
She didn’t feel alone in it anymore.
Because Juhoon had quietly rearranged himself around her again.
Every morning, before her early rehearsal, a paper bag would be waiting on the bench outside Artemis.
Her name written in his handwriting — slightly slanted, always small.
Inside: sliced fruit arranged neatly. A thermos of warm tea. Sometimes a small handwritten note tucked at the bottom.
Eat this before second run.
The first time she caught him dropping it off, he pretended he had “just been passing by.”
“You live twenty minutes in the opposite direction,” she pointed out.
During school hours, when she was too busy to attend lunch, he would quietly bring food to the empty classroom she used between periods.
Place the container on her desk.
He would sit across from her while she ate, not talking much, just watching to make sure she finished.
When she slowed down, he’d nudge the container closer.
“You’re worse than Coach Rami.”
But she always finished it.
At soccer practice, he was relentless now.
But every time he scored, he still looked for her.
Even if she wasn’t there.
One afternoon, she surprised him again.
Sitting in the bleachers with a thick jacket wrapped around her shoulders.
He noticed her halfway through drills and nearly missed a pass.
Seonghyeon laughed. “Focus, lover boy.”
After practice, he jogged straight to her.
“You shouldn’t be here. You have rehearsal.”
He just handed her his water bottle without thinking.
At Artemis, he had started bringing his homework again.
Sitting in the same seat.
But every time her music shifted to a difficult section, he’d glance up.
When she fell once — hard enough to make the sound echo — he stood instantly.
She waved him off before Coach Rami even spoke.
He didn’t sit until she stood again.
“You don’t panic anymore,” she observed quietly one evening.
“I trust her,” he replied simply.
Rami gave him a small nod.
Late nights became routine.
He would call her after drills.
Or she would call him after stretching.
They’d sit in silence sometimes, just listening to each other breathe.
“Talk to me,” she’d say softly.
“Coach thinks scouts are coming to the semifinal.”
Sometimes she’d fall asleep mid-sentence.
He’d stay on the line anyway.
Two weeks before Nationals, she twisted her wrist slightly during a spin.
But enough to make her flinch.
He just walked down from the bleachers calmly, knelt in front of her, and wrapped the ice pack himself.
“You’re hovering,” she muttered.
He adjusted the strap carefully.
“You’ll win,” he said quietly.
“Because you work harder than anyone I know.”
But his ears turned pink.
But she noticed the way Juhoon’s entire body shifted around Hayun.
The way he carried her skates without being asked.
The way he fixed the strap of her bag absentmindedly.
The way he listened when she talked — even if he didn’t always respond immediately.
There was no space left to step into.
One evening, after rehearsal, Hayun was too tired to walk properly.
He crouched slightly in front of her.
“You can’t even stand straight.”
She laughed breathlessly.
So she climbed onto his back.
Adjusted his hold around her legs securely.
Carried her all the way to the car.
“You’re spoiled,” she murmured into his shoulder.
“You’re the one spoiling me.”
She smiled against his neck.
As Nationals crept closer, the softness between them didn’t fade.
He didn’t need to say I’m proud of you every hour.
Held her when she needed grounding.
And two weeks before she stepped onto national ice—
Hayun realized something quietly, completely:
She wasn’t skating alone anymore.
Even when he wasn’t physically on the rink—
Her room was quiet, her curtains drawn, her phone facedown like it couldn’t tempt her into spiraling—but her mind refused to rest. It never did before competitions, no matter how many medals sat in her display case, no matter how many times she had stepped onto ice and left victorious.
The night before always felt like standing at the edge of something enormous.
Her stomach was twisting. Her hands kept going cold. Her heartbeat felt too loud for a room meant for sleeping.
She rolled over for the third time, staring at the ceiling.
Two words that felt like a weight pressing down on her ribs.
A soft knock came at the door.
It was so faint she almost thought she imagined it.
Hayun sat up instantly, blanket sliding down her shoulders. She didn’t even need to check her phone to know the time.
She padded toward the door quietly and opened it.
Standing in the hallway like he belonged there, like he always belonged there. Hoodie on, hair slightly damp like he’d rushed out right after showering, hands shoved into his pockets. He looked tired too, but his eyes softened the moment they met hers.
He didn’t ask if she was okay.
He just stepped forward and pulled her into him.
Like he could hold her nerves still.
Hayun’s breath hitched, and she pressed her face into his chest immediately.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured.
She didn’t argue this time.
Juhoon tilted her face up gently with two fingers under her chin and kissed her forehead.
Then the tip of her nose.
Slowly. Patiently. Like he was memorizing her.
Hayun’s lashes fluttered.
“You’re doing that thing again,” she whispered.
“Like you’re trying to calm me down without words.”
Instead he kissed her again, softer this time, lingering just long enough for her to breathe properly.
And then he walked her back into her room like it was routine.
Like it had become routine.
Ever since they got back together, he came every night before her competitions. Not because she asked, but because he always knew.
Hayun sat on the bed, and Juhoon followed, immediately tugging her into his arms.
He laid back first, and she curled into him like she’d done it a hundred times, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her with quiet certainty, one hand resting against her back, the other threaded gently through her hair.
He kissed the top of her head.
Hayun exhaled, finally feeling her body loosen.
“You’re skipping drills tomorrow,” she murmured.
He looked at her like it was obvious. “I took leave.”
She laughed softly, but her eyes stung.
Juhoon kissed her again, quick and gentle.
“You’re going to win,” he said.
Juhoon’s voice stayed calm. “If you mess up, you’ll still be you. You’ll still be the best skater I’ve ever seen. And I’ll still be here.”
Her throat tightened painfully.
He kissed her cheek again, then her jaw.
Acts of service, even in affection.
He didn’t say grand things.
And Hayun—Hayun eventually stopped shaking.
Listened to his breathing.
Let her body rest against him.
It was their most private ritual now.
The only place Nationals couldn’t reach her.
When morning came, the sun was barely up.
Hayun stood in front of her mirror, hair pinned back, her face bare, eyes slightly tired but determined. Her stomach still twisted with nerves, but it wasn’t consuming her the way it usually did.
Her mother hovered, gentle and careful, adjusting her scarf.
Her father stood nearby, already holding her bag like a proud bodyguard.
And Juhoon was there too.
His hand rested lightly at the small of her back as they walked into the car, like he was grounding her.
Younghee arrived with Diana and Mina, all dressed neatly, eyes sharp and excited.
“You’re not allowed to die on the ice,” Mina told Hayun immediately.
Hayun rolled her eyes. “Thank you for your support.”
Diana lifted her camera. “If you fall, I’m deleting myself from existence.”
Younghee just stared at her, expression unreadable, then reached out and fixed the ribbon on Hayun’s bag.
“You’ll be fine,” she said quietly.
It was the closest thing to comfort Younghee ever gave.
Hayun’s eyes softened. “Thank you.”
James first, dressed in clean black with a long coat, looking like he belonged at an award ceremony.
Seonghyeon followed, already carrying snacks.
Keonho came last, still chewing something.
Martin appeared beside them, looking far too composed for someone who’d definitely forced himself to stop worrying.
Juhoon had made them all come.
And none of them complained.
Because it was Nationals.
And because Juhoon’s voice last night on the group call had been too quiet, too firm.
Backstage, Hayun’s costume bag hung on a rack like a holy artifact.
Coach Rami arrived exactly on time.
Hair pinned, clipboard in hand, sharp eyes scanning Hayun’s posture instantly.
She checked her shoulders, her stance, the tension in her jaw.
Then she softened—just a fraction.
Rami leaned closer and fixed a stray strand of hair near her temple.
“Good,” she said. “Nervous means you care.”
Then the makeup artist began.
When the dress was finally on, it felt like stepping into a different version of herself.
The crystals along her collarbone caught every light.
The blush waist made her look warm and alive.
The silver vines at her back looked like destiny traced into fabric.
Diana’s camera flashed immediately.
Younghee’s eyes softened, just barely.
Coach Rami nodded once, satisfied.
Hayun turned her head slightly—
Waiting at the edge of the corridor like he wasn’t supposed to be backstage, like he’d bribed the universe to let him in.
He froze when he saw her.
His breath visibly caught.
He looked at her like he had that morning.
Like she was too beautiful to be real.
Like she was something sacred.
He just stepped forward and carefully adjusted the sleeve of her costume, smoothing it with his thumb.
Then he leaned down and kissed her forehead.
His hands trembled slightly.
“You’re shaking,” she whispered.
He exhaled softly, eyes glossy.
“You’re going to be incredible.”
Hayun’s throat tightened.
Juhoon nodded, as if he understood completely.
Then he pressed his forehead against hers.
“Then be scared,” he whispered. “And do it anyway.”
Because everyone who loved her was here.
And when her name was finally called—
Hayun stepped toward the ice.
Pearl and blush and silver trailing behind her like moonlight.
Coach Rami watched like a hawk.
Her parents stood in the audience.
Her friends leaned forward.
Juhoon sat still as stone, hands clasped tightly together, eyes fixed on the rink like he was praying.
The arena felt larger than it ever had before.
Lights blazed overhead, bright enough to turn the ice into something almost unreal — a blank canvas waiting for her story. The audience was already a restless sea of murmurs, programs flipping, cameras adjusting, judges whispering behind polished desks.
Backstage, Hayun stood in pearl and blush and silver, breathing slowly.
Coach Rami’s hand rested briefly on her shoulder.
“Presence,” she reminded her quietly.
When her name echoed through the speakers, the arena shifted.
She stepped onto the ice.
In the audience, her father sat rigid, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles had turned pale.
Her mother kept exhaling slowly, whispering tiny prayers under her breath without realizing it. She always did this. Even when Hayun had already won multiple championships. Even when statistics said she was the favorite.
Her aunt clutched her uncle’s sleeve. “She looks so grown,” she whispered.
“She’s always looked grown on ice,” he replied softly.
Younghee leaned forward in her seat, elbows on her knees, expression sharp and unblinking. Mina already had her phone recording, whispering, “Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,” like she was trying to convince herself. Diana had both her camera and phone out because she refused to miss a single frame.
James sat forward so abruptly he almost dropped his drink. “Oh my God,” he muttered the moment the spotlight hit her.
Seonghyeon inhaled sharply. “She looks unreal.”
Keonho went completely quiet, hands folded together.
Martin didn’t say anything at all.
He just glanced sideways at Juhoon.
He was sitting perfectly still.
The world could have burned around him and he wouldn’t have noticed.
The first note of her music began.
And the arena disappeared.
Her edges were cleaner than ever. Her posture regal. The chiffon skirt whispered around her legs like silk in water. The crystals across her collarbone caught the light exactly the way Rami had envisioned — like constellations breathing with her.
Juhoon’s fingers dug into his own palms.
Her father stood halfway before sitting back down, unable to contain himself.
Her mother pressed a hand over her mouth.
Midway through the program, during the step sequence that had haunted her for weeks, Hayun didn’t falter.
Exactly like Rami had said.
Coach Rami stood at the boards, face unreadable, but her jaw was tight. She hadn’t blinked in nearly a minute.
The final combination jump approached.
The one she had stumbled on in rehearsal.
The one that had kept her awake.
Juhoon stopped breathing.
The sound that tore from the audience was immediate.
She moved into her final spin, skirt flaring like a blooming flower, music swelling toward its crescendo.
And when the last note hit—
The silence lasted half a second.
People were on their feet instantly.
Her father stood fully this time, whistling so loudly people around him laughed. Her mother was crying openly now, clapping so hard her palms must have stung.
Her aunt and uncle were cheering, phones raised high.
Younghee stood, clapping steadily, eyes bright.
Mina was sobbing while filming.
Diana’s camera shook because her hands were trembling.
James yelled something incoherent.
Seonghyeon clapped above his head.
Keonho was smiling so wide it almost hurt.
Martin looked over at Juhoon again.
Tears slid down his face freely, unchecked, as he clapped.
He didn’t wipe them away.
He just watched her on the ice like he was witnessing something holy.
When she looked up toward the audience—
And her chest nearly burst.
Coach Rami approached her at the edge of the rink.
For a second, Rami said nothing.
She just pulled Hayun into her arms.
Professional composure shattered.
“You did it,” she whispered fiercely. “You did it.”
Hayun felt her own tears spill then.
The scoreboard eventually confirmed what everyone already knew.
National's had become hers.
When she stepped off the podium, medal heavy around her neck, the first person she saw pushing through the crowd was Juhoon.
He was holding a bouquet so large it almost hid his face.
He must have ordered them days ago.
He reached her and stopped just short, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to rush her in public.
She stepped forward first.
Wrapped her arms around him.
The bouquet crushed slightly between them, petals brushing against her costume.
Juhoon buried his face briefly in her hair.
“You did it,” he whispered, voice breaking.
She laughed through tears. “I did.”
“I’m so proud of you,” he said, and it sounded like the most important sentence he had ever spoken.
Hayun pulled back just enough to look at him.
Her friends surrounded them next, Mina practically tackling her, Diana filming everything, Younghee pulling her into a firm hug that said more than words ever could.
James high-fived her awkwardly before bowing dramatically.
Seonghyeon shook her shoulders in excitement.
Keonho offered her water immediately because of course he did.
Martin gave her a nod of quiet respect.
Her father pulled her into a crushing hug next, lifting her slightly off the ground. Her mother kissed her cheeks repeatedly, whispering, “My daughter. My daughter.”
Coach Rami stood back for a moment, watching.
Hayun looked around at everyone who had shown up.
Everyone who loved her loudly.
And in the middle of it all—
Juhoon stood beside her, one hand still lightly at her back, bouquet in the other.
Not trying to take attention.
Exactly where he had promised he would be.
And for the first time in her life—
Winning didn’t feel lonely.
The arena was still buzzing when Juhoon finally stepped a little away from the crowd.
Hayun was standing near the rink entrance, lilies cradled in her arms, medal resting against the pearl-white bodice of her costume. The blush at her waist glowed under the lights, silver vines trailing down her back like something out of a fairytale.
Juhoon took out his phone.
He didn’t draft ten captions like he usually would.
He just snapped one photo.
Hayun mid-laugh, tilting her head slightly, bouquet almost too big for her arms. Crystals at her collarbone catching light. Eyes bright and teary at the same time.
He uploaded it immediately.
James: ARE YOU INSANE
Seonghyeon: BRO.
Keonho: he’s gone.
Martin just reacted with a single white heart.
Hayun’s phone started vibrating nonstop.
She blinked when she saw it.
She looked up at him slowly.
She stared at the caption.
Her lips trembled slightly.
The hallway cleared for a moment.
Hayun set the bouquet carefully on a nearby bench and stepped toward him.
He barely had time to react before she grabbed his collar and pulled him down into a kiss.
Juhoon’s hands went to her waist instantly, steady and strong. She laughed against his lips when he lifted her off the ground slightly without thinking.
He spun her once — slow enough not to wrinkle the chiffon too much, careful with the dress, but still impulsive.
She squealed softly, clutching onto his shoulders.
When he set her down, he rested his forehead against hers.
“You’re going to internationals,” he whispered, like he still couldn’t believe it.
All of it sitting right behind his eyes again.
“I told you,” he said softly.
The Jung Hotel’s grand banquet hall was lit in warm gold that night, crystal chandeliers reflecting softly against polished floors. Staff moved gracefully between tables, setting out dishes in perfect coordination.
Hayun’s father had personally overseen everything.
“If my daughter is going to internationals, we celebrate properly,” he had declared.
Every single person who had shown up at the arena was invited.
Her parents sat at the center table.
Coach Rami beside them, still looking slightly dazed but glowing with pride.
Her aunt and uncle talking animatedly about the final spin.
Younghee, Mina, and Diana were at the long table nearby, already replaying the program on Mina’s phone for the twentieth time.
“You SEE that landing?” Mina cried.
Diana zoomed into the screen. “Look at her expression. She knew.”
Younghee just watched Hayun across the room, satisfied.
The boys were no quieter.
James had already retold the final jump five different ways.
“She landed and I swear time stopped.”
“It didn’t,” Seonghyeon said dryly.
“It did to him,” Martin added, nodding toward Juhoon.
Juhoon wasn’t really listening.
He was seated beside Hayun.
One hand resting on the back of her chair.
Occasionally adjusting the medal so it wouldn’t twist awkwardly.
He refilled her water before she noticed it was empty.
Pushed the plate closer when she got distracted mid-conversation.
Hayun caught him staring at her again.
“You’re doing that thing.”
“Looking like you’re going to cry again.”
He leaned closer so only she could hear.
“You have no idea how proud I am.”
Her heart melted all over again.
Under the table, she squeezed his hand.
He squeezed back instantly.
Juhoon opened Instagram again.
He didn’t stop at the post.
And then he spammed them.
Clips of her opening jump.
The exact moment the scoreboard lit up with her name at number one.
By the fifth story, James leaned over his shoulder.
He wanted the world to see her.
Not because she needed validation.
But because he needed everyone to understand what he saw.
She wasn’t just talented.
Later in the night, when the hall quieted slightly and speeches had ended, Hayun slipped away for a moment onto the balcony overlooking the city.
The city lights shimmered below, almost like the rink had earlier.
Hayun rested her arms on the railing, lilies placed beside her.
“I’m really going,” she said softly.
She turned toward him slowly.
“It’ll be harder,” he repeated. “But you’ll be better.”
This time he didn’t spin her.
And somewhere inside him, a quiet promise formed:
Every night before competitions.
Every early morning rehearsal.
Because she wasn’t just Seoul’s Treasure.
And he wasn’t letting go.
Hayun didn’t usually post.
She was active on stories—quick updates, blurred rink lights, snippets of music, the occasional photo of Juhoon’s shoulder when he was beside her.
Which was why, when her account uploaded a new post that night, people nearly dropped their phones.
jung.hayun
📍Jung Hotel, Seoul
Slide 1:
Juhoon, half-asleep on the café table, cheek pressed to his arm. His hair slightly messy, hoodie hood bunched behind his neck. The lighting is warm, golden, intimate. A half-finished honey latte sits near him—hers.
Slide 2:
A photo of a paper bag sitting outside Artemis, the bench dusted with early morning frost. Her name is written on it in his handwriting. Slightly slanted. Neat.
The corner of his jacket sleeve is visible in the frame like he didn’t know she was taking the picture.
Slide 3:
Her breakfast laid out neatly. Cut fruit. A sandwich. Warm tea in a thermos. A tiny sticky note:
eat. don’t skip. - j
Slide 4:
Juhoon walking ahead of her, carrying her skate bag like it weighs nothing. The strap is over his shoulder. His other hand is in his pocket. He looks calm, composed—like always.
But the angle shows his head turned slightly, checking if she’s following.
Slide 5:
A candid of him tying her skate laces. Kneeling in front of her, fingers careful, expression focused.
It’s blurry, because she clearly took it secretly.
Slide 6:
A photo of his hand holding hers, taken from above. His fingers are long, warm, steady. Her nails are painted pale pink. The edge of his soccer uniform is visible. The background is the bleachers.
Slide 7:
Juhoon sitting in his usual seat at Artemis, textbooks open but untouched, his eyes lifted toward the ice.
The caption on the photo (written on the image) says:
he pretends to study.
Slide 8:
A mirror selfie in the locker room hallway—Hayun only partially visible, but Juhoon fully in frame behind her. His arms around her waist. His face buried in her shoulder like he’s hiding.
Slide 9:
Her new skates in his hands. He’s holding them carefully, like something fragile.
The lace ends are wrapped neatly because he always does that.
Slide 10:
A photo of her sitting in class with her head down, and a lunchbox appearing beside her notebook.
Juhoon’s hand is in the corner of the frame, sliding it toward her.
The angle screams I didn’t ask. He just did it.
Slide 11:
Juhoon’s back as he walks away from her academy entrance, turning his head slightly like he’s checking if she’s watching him leave.
Slide 12:
A close-up of his wrist—her hair tie around it.
The picture is clearly taken like she’s laughing while doing it.
Slide 13:
A video screenshot from Nationals day. Juhoon in the audience, hands clasped, eyes locked on the rink.
He looks like he’s praying.
Slide 14:
The bouquet of lilies in her arms. Juhoon’s hand is visible beside it, fingertips brushing the petals.
Slide 15:
A photo of Juhoon’s Instagram story reposted—My heart ❤️
Hayun didn’t crop out the time stamp. She wanted everyone to see it.
Slide 16:
A blurry candid of him smiling. Like genuinely smiling.
It looks like she caught him mid-laugh, eyes crinkled, cheeks slightly flushed.
Slide 17:
A photo taken from behind, the two of them walking at night. His jacket is draped over her shoulders. He’s carrying her purse.
They’re holding hands.
The city lights make them look like silhouettes.
Slide 18:
A soft photo of their hands on the banquet table—his thumb tracing small circles over her knuckles. Her medal barely visible at the edge of the frame.
Slide 19:
A polaroid-style picture from Aurora Week. Juhoon backhugging her, chin resting lightly on her head. Hayun’s smile is wide, bright. Juhoon is looking at her instead of the camera.
Slide 20:
The last slide is dimly lit.
Hayun’s collarbone visible, Juhoon’s lips pressed softly to her cheek near her jaw, his hand holding her waist.
Nothing explicit—just close. Intimate. The kind of photo that feels like it shouldn’t be public, but she posted it anyway.
And then, finally, the caption appeared.
jung.hayun
he doesn’t talk much.
but he shows up.
every morning.
every practice.
every time i think i can’t.
he’s the quiet kind of love.
the kind that holds.
thank you for being my safest place.
thank you for loving me like it’s natural.
Comments exploded instantly.
Mina: IM CRYING??????
Diana: THIS IS INSANE I WAS THERE AND I’M STILL IN SHOCK
Younghee: finally.
James: DELETE SLIDE 20 RIGHT NOW 😭
Seonghyeon: BROOOO?? THIS IS A HARD LAUNCH
Keonho: i’m happy for you guys :)
Martin: proud of you both.
Juhoon liked the post within seconds.
Then commented, for the first time in his life:
kimjuhoon:
my whole life. 🤍
Hayun stared at the comment until her face got hot.
Then she turned her phone off and buried it under her pillow like it had embarrassed her.
But her smile didn’t leave her face for the rest of the night.
The Monday after Nationals felt unreal.
Haneul International Preparatory Academy had never looked so polished. Banners were hung across the main building: Congratulations to Our National Champion—Jung Hayun . Fresh flowers lined the auditorium entrance. The school orchestra was even rehearsing a short celebratory piece.
Hayun walked through the gates beside Juhoon, fingers loosely intertwined.
Students bowed slightly as she passed. Teachers smiled wider than usual. Even the security guard gave her a thumbs up.
Juhoon noticed the way her shoulders tensed at the attention.
Without a word, he adjusted the strap of her bag so it wouldn’t slip. His hand rested briefly at her lower back as they walked.
The congratulatory programme was held in the auditorium.
The principal stood at the podium, voice echoing warmly through the hall.
“Today, we celebrate not only achievement, but dedication. Discipline. Legacy.”
Hayun sat in the front row with the other skaters from school who had competed. A few younger athletes beside her were practically vibrating with excitement.
Behind them, the entire student body filled the seats.
Juhoon sat three rows back with James, Martin, Seonghyeon, and Keonho.
James leaned forward constantly like he might jump onto stage at any moment. Seonghyeon had his phone ready to record. Keonho clapped politely every time her name was mentioned. Martin simply watched.
Juhoon didn’t look at the stage screen when it began playing highlights of Nationals.
The projector showed her final jump. The crowd gasping. The scoreboard lighting up.
The auditorium erupted in cheers.
Hayun smiled politely, bowing her head slightly.
Juhoon’s chest felt tight.
When she was called to the stage, applause thundered through the hall.
She walked with grace, medal resting against her uniform, posture straight but humble.
The principal handed her a plaque.
“International Representative of Korea,” he announced proudly.
The hall went wild again.
James stood up. “THAT’S OURS,” he yelled before Martin dragged him back down.
When Hayun stepped down from the stage, she caught his eyes immediately.
That quiet look passed between them again.
The one that said: You’re here.
After the assembly, chaos erupted in the courtyard.
Students crowded around for photos. Younger girls asked for autographs. Teachers shook her hand.
Diana was filming everything for media club coverage.
Younghee stood slightly behind Hayun, watchful as always.
The boys eventually broke through the crowd.
James dramatically bowed to her. “National champion. Please spare us commoners.”
Seonghyeon tried to grab the plaque and nearly dropped it.
Keonho offered her water like she had just competed again.
Martin just gave her a steady nod. “Well done.”
Juhoon didn’t speak at first.
He waited until the crowd thinned.
Then he stepped closer and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Later that afternoon, near the art wing, Yerin approached.
She bowed slightly toward Hayun.
“Congratulations,” she said sincerely. “You were incredible.”
Hayun blinked in surprise.
Yerin’s gaze flickered briefly toward Juhoon, who was standing slightly behind Hayun now, hands in his pockets.
“I mean that,” Yerin added. “You deserve it.”
Then Yerin smiled faintly.
“But I’m not backing down.”
Hayun’s expression didn’t change.
Juhoon stepped forward slightly, but Hayun’s hand touched his arm gently.
“I don’t expect you to,” Hayun replied calmly.
“No,” Hayun said, voice steady. “But I trust him.”
Juhoon’s chest tightened at that.
Yerin studied her for a second longer.
She stepped back politely and walked away.
James, who had been eavesdropping terribly from behind a pillar, nearly fell out from shock.
Juhoon looked at Hayun carefully.
Hayun turned toward him slowly.
She stepped closer, sliding her hand into his like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You’re not a trophy,” she added softly. “If someone wants to compete, that’s their problem.”
Not because he felt threatened.
But because he felt chosen.
The courtyard buzzed around them.
Students still celebrating.
Their friends still loud.
But in that small pocket of space between them—
No almost-breakup shadow.
exactly where he belonged.
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author's note — is it too short? am not sure but i hope you enjoyed it!!! delaying martin's update a little bit because ill be going on a roadtrip(dw ill update Juhoon's regularly) pls do lmk what you think! tysm for reading. not edited.
