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conquest of spaces ꨄ.. ⠀⠀riwoo x f! reader. figure skating au.

sypnosis: you and sanghyuk have been training under coach kim since you could remember, but then sanghyuk’s gains success. soon enough, he’s becomes destined for better and greater things - which includes switching coaches to coach lee - who also happens to be coach’s bitter rival. even if you aren’t competing in the same discipline, coach kim decides to draw a line in the sand, and you and sanghyuk are caught in the splash zone. (wc 8.9k) tags: YURI!!!!, secret relationship vibes, enemies (?) to lovers? a/n: i'm sooo tired. thank you to aylin @starriniqhts for beta reading! song i looped to this was everywhere by michelle branch.

december, some random tuesday.

it probably didn’t help that you found out through social media.

coach.ty.lee happy to welcome lee sanghyuk to our humble skating club ❤️ please continue to support this brilliant young skater!

you exchanged a look with subin.

“in the middle of the season, too,” subin sighs, “rough.”

you shake your head, “i literally said hi to him last week.”

"do you think coach kim knows about this?” she whispers over the hum of the zamboni.

a shrill scream from coach kim’s office cuts you off before you can reply, and you cock your head - "i think that’s your answer.”

coach appears at the door, clipboard clutched in her hand with whitened knuckles, her hair wild and flying, and her eyes narrowed and furious.

"i take him to junior worlds. i help him rotate his quads. i hand stitch his costumes when they break. i raised him - and this is how he repays me?” she seethes, stomping over to where you and subin are resting.

"she’s mad,” subin whispers.

"go figure,” you wipe your hands on your training towel as you stand, walking over to the door of the rink.

coach kim is fuming now, pacing back and forth across the rubber floor as she mutters to herself. the last time you saw her this angry was when the judges hosed your scores to hell and back for their favourite new wunderchild - and back then she made threats of blowing up the judges box on national tv and nearly attacked one of the judges from behind when she saw them in the hotel lobby.

"ten years,” she mutters when she nears you, jabbing her clipboard towards you like you’re supposed to bear witness, "ten - fucking - years i spent with that boy. teaching him figures and edges when he could barely stand on the ice. sharpening his skates when he couldn’t afford to go to a professional. and taeyeon - she - she just swoops in now that he’s landing quads, winning medals, and getting sponsorships, and suddenly i’m what? chopped liver?”

you and subin elect to remain silent.

"and you know what the worst part is?” coach kim’s voice cracks slightly, and you cringe at the sight of tears springing to her waterline, eyes turning glassy, “i taught her how to choreograph! i got her her first coaching job - at the national rink! and now this is how she repays me?”

she stops abruptly and you suck in a breath, trying not to set her off if you breathe the wrong way.

“fine -” she says sharply, “if this is how she wants to play it, then so be it.”

you definitely breathed the wrong way, because as you exhale coach kim whirls onto you, approaching with a speed that alarms you as she waves her clipboard at you.

“you’re competing at senior nationals next month, correct?”

“yes, ma’am,” your throat is dry.

“good. i want you on that worlds team. not competing - winning, you understand me?” she has that glare in her eyes now, the one that means she’s planning something, “taeyeon thinks she can poach one of my skaters and get away with it? let’s see how much she likes it when her new star has to share a podium with one of my skaters.”

“but ma’am,” you hold up a finger, “sanghyuk is doing men’s singles and i do -”

“i know what discipline you’re in -” she snaps, “that’s not relevant. it’s about making a statement. it’s about proving ourselves.”

you wonder if your coach has gone slightly insane with heartbreak. coach kim takes your silence as agreement.

she storms back to her office, and you let out a quiet sigh.

she pauses and for a moment you panic over whether she heard your exhale.

she points her clipboard at you, “and i do not want to see you chatting up lee sanghyuk. texting lee sanghyuk. or even looking at lee sanghyuk. understand?”

you gulp, “but -”

“no buts,” she snaps, “end of conversation!”

the slam of her office door echoes around the ice rink.

you block sanghyuk that night - up at 11:30PM and scrolling through your text messages. photos from group hangouts, requests for money, and the occasional question and passing of news. deleting it was easy - it was nothing - it meant nothing. you unfollow him on instagram next, and block him on facebook too, as requested by coach kim. she gave you a thumbs up when you text the proof of your loyalty, and you can’t help but repeat to yourself: it’s nothing, just a guy who is no longer part of your life anymore. it’s like… graduating from highschool and deleting all the classmates you don’t care about.

that’s exactly what this is.

january, day one of nationals.

the next time you see sanghyuk is at nationals.

the moment you step onto the rink, your eyes zero in on him, dressed in his team korea jacket with earbuds in as he practices his off ice jumps in the corner of the arena. he looks the same as when he left you - still with the same cropped platinum blonde hair that subin used to say makes him look bald when it blends into the ice. you wince at the thought.

coach kim bristles.

“don’t look at him,” she announces to your group, and you see the younger skaters nod dutifully. you peel your eyes away before he somehow notices your obvious staring and hurry away to the locker room, your bag clutched in your hand as you brush past skaters warming up, coaches giving last minute words of wisdom, camera crew dangerously swinging around large cameras, and volunteers running around with boxes of water bottles in their hands.

the locker room is only just slightly less chaotic. with the smell of hairspray in the air and stepping over dropped hair accessories, you drop your bag onto the bench, pulling out your shoes and starting the journey of lacing yourself into your skates.

"this is so stupid,” subin whispers, her junior bronze medal dangling from her neck as she casts a quick look to where coach kim is fussing over wonyoung’s hair, "you and sanghyuk aren’t even in the same event. what are you gonna do? join the men’s singles competition and come in last place?”

you don’t answer, instead just yanking on your laces even harder.

"coach is even pettier than me,” subin mumbles in answer to your silence.

"it’s a matter of pride,” you eventually say, standing up and testing the feeling of being in your shoes - tight, structured, perfect. exactly how you like it.

"but [y/n] -”

"i’m gonna go warm up,” you interrupt, grabbing your water bottle and marching out of the locker room.

coach kim gave you a purpose. she shaped your life.

you nearly smack into sanghyuk and his new teammate - donghyun - while you’re emerging from the locker room. sanghyuk’s doing that thing again where he’s doing his best to laugh at a joke that doesn’t land to make the other person feel better, and then he’s poking fun at donghyun’s poor attempt at redemption. you shove past donghyun (which elicits a soft hey!) and stomp away as sanghyuk grabs donghyun’s shoulder and to pull him out of the way.

you weren’t going to betray coach now.

you say you’re practising, throwing yourself into the air like a spring wound up too tight on the rubber floor of the upper deck of the arena.

but out of the corner of your eye, you watch the action happening on the ice rink.

sanghyuk is doing his usual routine of crossovers during warmups, and coach kim is watching the rink like a hawk from her place in the spectator stands. you try to look uninterested, brushing past the other skaters that are huddled behind a pillar and whispering about the final group of male skaters.

"i think sanghyuk’s gonna win,” one of them whispers.

"no way, jaehyun totally has it,” another laughs.

“donghyun, anyone?” someone offers weakly.

“no way - he hasn’t even regained his quad toe,” someone else retorts, “my money’s on our ice prince jaehyun.”

you push in your earbuds as the crowd erupts into giggles.

focus, you chide yourself, you come first.

you ignore the rest of the men’s event, but you find out sanghyuk won the short program anyways when a gasp echoes around the stadium as his score appears. a new personal best - the announcer booms, unavoidable with its volume.

ignore him, your mental coach kim scolds as you stretch again, you’re literally going up next.

your competition feels like a blur. you wobble on the landing your opening jump which deducted points and caused looks from the judging panels, and you missed a level in your second spin because you got distracted thinking about the jump and missed a few rotations. when you skate away after your bows you barely register what you’re doing and what just happened, your brain buzzing from that post-program energy.

but coach kim greets you at the exit of the rink, a smile hanging from her face as she pulls you into a tight hug.

“that was good,” she says into your ear, pressing you tighter against herself, “you did exactly what i wanted to see.”

you just give her a tired smile and grab your skate guards out of her hands.

when your scores come in, coach kim cheers and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“at least third place,” she says breathlessly, “we can do bronze. we can work with that.”

day one ended up with you stepping off the podium with a silver medal in your hands, after the girl who went after you fell on her combination, locking you into second place as you continue to fail to beat the reigning national champion (a work in progress - coach kim mumbles, scribbling harshly into her notebook - we’ll beat her one day, maybe even tomorrow).

your medal slaps against your rib cage as you hurry down the corridor. you’re slinking against walls trying to find a quiet place to catch your breath when you round a corner and nearly bump into someone.

“sorry -” you start, looking up.

sanghyuk.

he’s in his training clothes but his medal is still strung around his neck. you can see your own dumbfounded expression reflected in the gold and you quickly tear your eyes away.

“congratulations,” sanghyuk rushes out before you can say anything or run away.

“yeah, um. you too,” you try your best to squeeze past him, “excuse me.”

“wait,” he says, catching your arm, “are you mad at me?”

you tear yourself out of his grip, eyes staring at the floor, “that’s none of your business.”

“then why -”

“don’t” you say, your vowels wobbling, “just don’t.”

you run away as fast as your feet can take you.

you can feel his gaze still following you as you round the corner, gripping the ribbon of your medal in your hand so tightly it cuts into your palm with a slight sting.

minyoungkim celebrating my skaters 💝 thank you! you’ve made me proud.

you scoff at coach kim’s story, her arms around a younger you as she tags your instagram, in the corner is sanghyuk, deliberately cropped out of the photo but just enough to tick people off on who the third person in the image is. you quickly repost the story onto your instagram out of obligation before shutting off your phone, crawling out from under the blanket to charge your phone on the bedside table.

the silver medal stares at you as it lays helplessly on the table.

you stretch and stare up at the ceiling of the hotel, watching the ceiling fan make its rounds slowly. you think about the way sanghyuk’s voice cracked when he asked are you mad at me?, like he already knew the answer. you see his face when you close your eyes and he’s in the shapes of the fan’s blades.

you weren’t mad at him, and somehow that’s the worst part. it would be easier if you were.

you turn on your side and bury your face into the pillow.

tomorrow is the free skate, you tell yourself, go to bed.

you probably stayed up for two more hours, rolling sanghyuk’s words around your brain like a candy that would melt, before exhaustion finally claimed you.

january, day two of nationals.

the pre-practice briefing is awkward.

coach kim has a whiteboard and is armed with a laser pointer. she also has the energy of someone who also did not get much sleep, only for completely different reasons.

you’re staring at your reflection in your room temperature coffee as coach kim continues to speak, gesturing like she’s about to conduct a military ambush, “[y/n], the judges gave your fairly good components score yesterday. we need to work on the axis when going into our axel. the spin level, i’m sure, was just a fluke. i expect all level 4s today, understood?”

you nod wordlessly and coach kim continues to ramble on. wonyoung catches your eye from across the table and shakes her head. she’s crazy, you see her mouth, and all you can give her is a non-committal smile.

your phone buzzes and you look down as the screen lights up on your lap.

unknown: good luck today. congrats on silver yesterday. unknown: i got a new number bc you blocked me. pls don’t block me here :(

you know who it is, even without a name or a profile picture.

you turn your phone over, face down in your lap as you down the rest of your coffee and try to focus on coach kim’s barked instructions.

competition first. boys from your past later.

you go clean. you land your triple-triple combination you’ve been working on since last season cleanly for the first time in a while. your spins all score a level 4, as instructed, and you go away with a new season’s best and a bronze medal overall for your efforts.

coach kim nods like it’s expected - all according to plan, all according to what she has laid out for you. you can only clutch onto your bronze medal like it’s a lifeline and steal glances at the spectator stands, where sanghyuk inches closer and closer to subin and the rest of your teammates, desperately trying to catch your attention. you see his hand rise up when you wave in his direction, falling back down when subin yells out your name and gives you an enthusiastic wave back, a look of disappointment flashing across his face before he quickly looks away.

you don’t think about it too hard.

the closing banquet is always awkward - a show for the cameras and journalists as skaters quietly file into the hall in their best formal wear.

your medals hang heavy around your neck as you continue to poke at your food halfheartedly. subin and the rest of the juniors are off dancing in the corner, feeling the music playing through the speakers that is far too upbeat for how tired you feel. wonyoung nudges you under the table with her knee.

“don’t look now. but to your three o’clock,” she warns, which, of course, immediately makes you look.

sanghyuk is sat at one of the tables across the banquet hall, sitting with the rest of coach lee’s team and talking to one of his new teammates. he smiles at one of the girls in his camp and you catch yourself frowning when she giggles in return. the horror of the realisation settles in is enough for you to turn your head back around and glare down at your plate with contempt at yourself (mostly).

“he keeps looking over here,” wonyoung whispers conspiratorially after her theatrical sigh and i told you not to look!

“so what?” you answer, with more bitterness in your voice than you wanted, “he’s no longer of concern to me.”

“oh, come on,” wonyoung grabs your hand, “you’ve known him since forever! surely you must feel some way.”

“just eat your food,” you grumble, stabbing your fish. your phone buzzes in your lap and you think about the text that’s been sitting in your messages since this morning.

you try to recall what coach kim said this morning. about fixing the axel and selling your program more. about getting the right levels on your spins and the momentum you should carry into four continents. about her whiteboard and a whole flowchart of your next career steps laid out after careful consideration. you think about good, stable, and reliable things instead of fickle and unsubstantial ones.

your phone buzzes again, and against your better judgement, you look.

unknown: congrats on the bronze unknown: and going to 4cc!!

you watch as the three dots appear and disappear, blinking away for a few seconds before appearing again.

unknown: yeah! congrats!!!

when you sneak a look over at sanghyuk’s table, he’s no longer chatting with his teammates or looking at you, instead just staring at his new phone, his thumbs hesitating over his keyboard.

he looks up in your direction, and you whip your head back and grab your glass of fruit punch, sipping it and staring at the spinning centrepiece vase of flowers until your heart stops drumming in your ears.

“you okay?” wonyoung asks in between delicate bites of broccoli.

“fine,” you grit your teeth, “i’m fine.”

the banquet hall is basically empty.

you stumble out of the hall, your medal ribbons all tangled up and your hair falling out of the elaborate hairstyle wonyoung put it in before. your drink that smells suspiciously like fruit punch and vodka is threatening to spill all over your only nice dress and you can barely tell left from right.

"this is harder than skating,” you hiss to yourself, stumbling around in your high heels and nearly slamming into a pillar that seems to have spawned out of nowhere in your drunken state.

"... minyoung, you can’t let it continue on like this.”

you stop short around a corner, before you can even acknowledge the conversation you definitely weren’t supposed to hear. you press yourself into a nook in the wall and listen anyway - because your room was down this way and you weren’t going to figure out a way around it while the world continues to spin upside down.

“i can do what i want, taeyeon,” coach kim’s voice is short, clipped, and simmering with anger.

"using your skaters as pawns? just chess pieces in your vindictive streak against me?”

"i’m coaching them, taeyeon. not that you would know.”

"coach? you’re torturing them, minyoung.”

"torture? i -”

"i’ve seen sanghyuk look at one of your skaters - [y/n], was it? she pays him no mind and i can’t help but think it's due to your machinations.”

"[y/n] is a grown woman. she does what she wants, and maybe she just doesn’t want to associate with a traitor.”

"that’s the word - traitor. that’s what you called me back then, too.”

the silence is so deafening and long you nearly peer around the corner to see if somehow they have evaporated into thin air.

“because that’s what you are!” coach kim’s verbal explosion thankfully stops you before you do, her voice raised to volumes you’ve never heard before.

“that’s because… you left me,” you can hear her struggling to lower her voice, pressing down til her voice is flat.

“i did what was best for me,” coach lee says, almost like a parent placating a child, “and that’s what sanghyuk did, too. you can’t fault the kid for that.”

coach kim is silent, and you can hear coach lee sigh.

“don’t let the children end up like us, minyoung. arguing in the corridors of a hotel, hating each other for nothing in particular. they’re better than us - we need to let them be better than us.”

coach kim doesn’t respond, and the air is thick enough to choke someone. the air conditioning hums in the silence and you feel the ribbons of your medal stick to the back of your neck, it’s fringes prickling against your skin.

you finally hear coach lee’s footsteps walk away, down the corridor. a few breaths later, coach kim’s own hurried footsteps, her high heels clicking against the marble of the floor.

you don’t move, stuck to the wall like fly on honey.

“[y/n]?”

you turn around far too fast and have to catch yourself on the wall, stumbling in your dizziness. sanghyuk is standing there in his fancy grey sweater, neck decidedly empty of his medals, holding two glasses of water with a raised eyebrow.

“i was looking for you,” he says matter-of-factedly, brow furrowing as he takes you in - heels in one drink, drink sloshing dangerously in the other, hair looking like a bird’s nest, “you disappeared.”

“no, i didn’t,” you frown, gesturing to yourself, the floor still swaying under your feet, “i’m right here.”

sanghyuk crosses over in two quick strides, taking your suspicious fruit punch concoction and swiftly replacing it with one of his glasses of water. you make a noise of protest but he gives you a look that makes you look down and sip quietly on the water instead.

“how much did you have?” he says, sniffing your cup before making a face of obvious disgust.

“not that much.”

“[y/n]…”

“wonyoung kept refilling my glass when i wasn’t looking,” you grumble.

sanghyuk lets out a breath that sounds like it might be a laugh, tickling the hair that falls around your neck. he reaches out to take the empty glass back from you, and he’s close enough you can smell his cologne - it’s the same peachy scent that filled your summers at the skating rink - the memory makes you tip your head back against the wall to look at him properly.

sanghyuk is good-looking, you think distantly. you’ve always known that in the same way you know facts about the world - the sky is blue, the ice is cold, flips are the bane of your existence, and sanghyuk has good bone structure.

you’re drunk, you think to yourself immediately after, you’re being delusional.

“you’ve been avoiding me all weekend,” sanghyuk says quietly, cutting through your internal whirlwind, a frown playing on his lips.

“i wasn’t -” you hiccup in the middle of your sentence, “wasn’t avoiding you.”

“at dinner,” he fills in your silence, “you kept looking at me and then looking away when i noticed.”

you purse your lips.

“caught me there.”

sanghyuk shifts, “so? what is it? do you not like me?”

“me?” you stop, pressing the back of your head against the cold of the marble wall in a bid to quell your headache, “he’s not - i don’t - coach kim told me not to.”

“i guessed,” sanghyuk says simply, running his thumb up and down the empty glass in his hand.

then quieter: “is that the only reason?”

you stare at him, the corridor comes to an abrupt halt. a muscle in his throat moves and he squints at you, like he’s trying to stare into your soul for an answer.

“forget it,” he eventually says, shoulders sagging, “you’re drunk. i - i shouldn’t have.”

“no,” the words bubble out of you before you can stop it, “not really.”

sanghyuk scoffs, but it’s non-committal when he looks at you - really looks at you. there’s a look in his eyes that makes it seem like he’s been carrying something but doesn’t want to anymore.

he peers at you hopefully.

“really?” he says, his voice soft enough that you ruminate on the question.

“yeah,” you put a hand over your heart, “and it’s not because i’m drunk right now. i swear.”

there’s a smile tugging on sanghyuk’s lips.

“i’ve liked you - since the first time we met,” he says, voice low and you gesture for him to speak louder, which he laughs at, “since the first time i saw you. you came off the ice at some b comp, and you were so mad at your scores. you said something to coach kim that sounded like you’ve already decided you were just going to be better than everyone who’s ever doubted you. and i just… that was it for me. i don’t know what else to tell you.”

you open your mouth, nothing comes out.

sanghyuk nods like you’ve said something anyways.

“you probably won’t remember this next morning anyways,” he says, more to himself than you.

he pushes the second cup of water into your hands, “you should drink more water,” he mumbles, gentle and resigned.

you don’t remember what happens next. just that you blinked and he was gone, a half empty cup of water in your hands and his footsteps echoing softly until you can’t hear it anymore.

you wake up the next day with a pounding headache, and an empty glass of water on your nightstand, with no explanation of how they got there. all you remember is the conversation you weren’t supposed to hear, and how unfortunate is that?

you're in line at the airport check-in when wonyoung taps you on the shoulder and squeezes into line next to you.

"sanghyuk’s staring again. bet he likes you or something," she whispers, and this time you look up, catching sanghyuk's glance from across the lobby.

his eyes widen instantly, and he quickly looks down, playing with the straps of his training bag with feigned interest as sungho continues to talk at him, pointing at the art pieces hanging from the airport ceiling.

when you turn back around, coach kim is staring at you instead, a raised eyebrow as she taps her foot against the marble floor.

"i wasn't -" you start.

"i don't care what you do in your personal life," coach kim interrupts, turning away pointedly, "just don't let it impact your performance."

"okay," you say slowly, "i won't."

the clerk calls for coach kim next and she steps up, placing her passport onto the table.

wonyoung nudges you, "what the hell happened to her?“

you try your best to give a nonchalant shrug, "maybe she remembered something.“

wonyoung shudders, "not used to her being nice. it’s weird."

its funny, you think to yourself, coach kim loosened the leash ever so slightly, and you’re already thinking about what to say to sanghyuk the next time you see him.

early february, one week before four continents.

you corner sanghyuk in the training room.

"hi?" he squeaks, face still flushed from his workout and bangs sticking against his forehead, "is this allowed?"

you look back outside the training room. the door is slightly ajar and coach kim is instructing wonyoung while coach lee paces on the opposite side of the rink. everyone else is trying to squeeze in more practice into the last few minutes of ice time before the rink closes. you look back at him and shut the door behind you with a slam.

“probably not,” you say back.

sanghyuk drops his towel over his shoulder, letting out a breath and glancing towards the door.

“is this a trap?” he jokes light-heartedly, “are you going to kidnap me back on coach kim’s orders?”

you cross your arms and frown, “i don’t like you that much, lee sanghyuk.”

“figured,” he mumbles, sitting down on the bench heavily, “so?”

the training room’s ventilation continues to hum loudly and music pours in from the outside, occasionally fading as the chords quiet down. you can still hear the sound of blades against ice and the heavy thump of the toe pick coming down. you watch as sanghyuk’s eyes briefly flicker towards the door and back to you as you step forward, towards him until your own knees hit the bench and you sit down heavily next to him.

“you blocked me,” he finally says, head drooping sadly beside you, “you even blocked me on spotify.”

“i had to cover all my bases,” you grumble, “wait - you were looking for me on spotify?”

sanghyuk looks away, “not important.”

“it was because of coach -”

“i know,” sanghyuk finally looks up at you, “i know.”

he stands up and brushes past you, “i’m… i’m just glad you didn’t block my new number.”

you blurt it out before you can regret it, “i heard something i shouldn’t have - after the banquet.”

sanghyuk pauses, his hand halfway to the door handle. there, he wavers. you watch the grip he has on the doorframe tighten and loosen as he grapples with staying behind or leaving before he hears something he shouldn’t have or doesn’t want to.

your hands tremble as they tense around the neck of your water bottle.

“you don’t have to stay,” you eventually say, “but i would like you to.”

sanghyuk chews on the inside of his mouth. he takes a step back into the room, his hand sliding off the doorframe.

“what did you hear?” he says, quietly with his back still turned. his head drops low, like he’s counting the flecks in the rubber flooring of the gym.

“i heard coach lee say something like… not to let this -” you gesture in between the two of you, “- end up like whatever happened between them.”

sanghyuk’s figure stiffens and then relaxes, like he’s releasing a sigh of relief. he finally turns around, dabbing at his forehead with the back of his hand as he sits down on one of the foam blocks near the door.

“i heard they used to be close,” he murmurs, casting a look at the door to make sure none of the juniors have decided to eavesdrop, “at least, that’s what i heard. i’m not sure.”

“coach said she taught her everything,” you cross your arms, “how to choreograph, her first job… and then apparently she just up and left one day.”

“that’s not fair to either of them,” sanghyuk says, with enough conviction it startles you slightly, “nobody except for themselves know why she left. coach kim probably doesn’t even know the whole truth - and that’s why she’s angry. it’s easier to be angry than to sit with the truth.”

you fidget in your sneakers.

“you’re talking about yourself, aren’t you?”

sanghyuk looks up sharply.

“everyone kept asking me why - if i regret it, if i feel guilty. it made me wonder - is wanting something for yourself is just a betrayal? am i just being selfish?”

“of course not,” you blurt, “you’re just doing what you need to do. you’re allowed to want things.”

sanghyuk’s eyes soften, “you know.”

you fiddle with your hands, “coach always said you were destined for bigger and better things.”

sanghyuk winces, “i remember.”

"i guess she just didn’t realise it would be like this.”

the rink continues to move outside the door - a muffled round of applause, a shrill shriek of someone who slipped on the ice.

“do you like it there?”

“it’s… fine,” his thumb traced over his knuckles, “the others are nice, the ice time is competitive, the music choices are… choicing.”

his eyes flicker back up to you, “sometimes i miss our group, and… i miss the people there, too.”

you can feel the unspoken words in between the lines, the ones that seem far too similar to that one conversation you remember hazily, and the ones that you never really noticed.

“we’re too junior-ish and immature,” you swallow harshly, “you’re better off with coach lee, with people like donghyun.”

“you sure?” sanghyuk smiles, “i think about it sometimes. whether i made the right decision, whether it was worth giving up what i had because i thought it would be easier.”

“you didn’t give up anything. it was all you - from the beginning. i knew it from the first time we met, since that time i got off the ice from the b comp and was rightly pissed about my scores.”

sanghyuk stiffens, “you remember what i said.”

“i do.”

“i shouldn’t have made the assumption you wouldn’t,” sanghyuk sighs, looking down at the floor again, “so? what do you think?”

“w - what do i think?” you stutter, suddenly caught off guard.

“yeah,” sanghyuk stands up slowly, like he doesn’t want to disturb the peace the two of you are momentarily in, “about what i said at the banquet.”

before you can even think about your answer, the training room doors creak open and subin’s head peers through the crack. her eyes go comically wide as they dart between the two of you.

“oooh,” she singsongs, the vowel drawn out far too long, “i’m so telling wonyoung.”

“subin!” you hiss, swiping at her even when you’re more than a meter away.

“your secret is safe with me,” subin slaps her hand over her heart before guestering behind her, “but coach is coming this way, so you better get an acceptable distance between the two of you before she flips out.”

sanghyuk sighs loudly and subin scrambles away, giggling as she does so.

“later,” he says, one foot out the door and his ears embarrassingly red.

you pick up his abandoned towel and throw it at him. he catches it in one hand, letting out a laugh of disbelief.

“later,” you say, the word hanging between the two of you like a promise.

you skate out of your y-spin with more finesse you’ve had combined over the past two days. your thighs are burning in that way that tells you you’ve done something right and you’re alight with the buzz of adrenaline. your nerves feel frayed and your arm trembles from the effort.

subin whistles from where she is from the boards, wiggling her eyebrows at you and winking exaggeratedly when you look over at her exasperatedly. wonyoung remains blissfully confused, her eyes shifting between the two of you as she glides over, water bottle in hand.

“what’s up with you guys?” she asks, the sound of your skates on ice drowning out subin’s obvious giggle behind her hand, “you two have been acting so weird for the past hour.”

“nothing’s up,” you emphasise, grabbing onto the boards as you glare at subin, “i don’t know why subin is making such a big deal out of nothing.”

“oh, something is definitely up,” subin singsongs.

“what? did you catch [y/n] and sanghyuk kissing in the training room or something?” wonyoung says absentmindedly, taking a sip from her bottle.

both you and subin fall suspiciously silent.

“wait, really?” wonyoung’s eyes widen as her hand comes up to cover her mouth.

“no!” you blubber, slamming your hands onto subin’s shoulder, “sanghyuk and i were just… talking!”

“is just talking code for something else?” wonyoung blinks innocently.

“sure you were - ‘just talking’ my ass,” subin snickers.

“subin, language!” you scold, your cheeks tingling with shame, “and we were really just talking!”

“you can tell me anything, you know?” wonyoung whispers from behind her palm, “my lips are sealed.”

“i’m telling you - there’s nothing going on!”

coach’s whistle breaks up the conversation, and wonyoung and subin exchange a look that leaves you huffing and embarrassed as the three of you skate over to where the rest of the group is reconvening.

someone hands you your skate guards. coach kim is yelling at everyone to get in a line, even though she really doesn’t have to because you do the same thing every friday session. subin and wonyoung jostle each other for the earlier place in the line while you hang back, letting the younger kids squeeze in ahead of you. coach is barking observations and comments at everyone as they exit the rink, a force of habit she can’t get rid of, or want to.

"keonho, have you thought about my suggestion to reconsider your music choice? ... no? you think its ‘badass’? ... well i don't think the judges will see it the same way. let's circle back on this tomorrow."

you wait your turn, at the end of the line as the rest of the skaters file into the changing room ahead of you with an eagerness that comes after a long skating session. coach kim pats subin on the back.

"subin! lovely work on that choreo sequence, keep it up, okay? we'll run through the step sequence tomorrow."

subin smiles brightly and coach moves on, grabbing onto wonyoung's shoulders and shaking her slightly.

"a little more oomph with the choreography, wonyoung. it's time to step it up! ... no, i don't care if you're tired. the music doesn't wait for anyone!"

wonyoung trudges off, mumbling about her sleep schedule as you approach coach kim.

"[y/n], you've worked hard today," she pats you on the arm, "i would appreciate a little more commitment to the jumps next time, alright? we’re going to land them, not maybe we’ll land them. understood?"

"yes, coach," your chirp dutifully as coach ticks something off her clipboard of observation and logs with finality.

"go get some rest," she says absentmindedly, thumbing through her pages, "i'll see you back here tomorrow."

"night," you roll your shoulders as the fatigue finally takes over, your body suddenly heavy and sore, and the cold from the rink bites into you even through your tights.

you're shoving your skates into your bag when your phone buzzes in your jacket pocket.

LSH: sooo about later LSH: can later be now?

you catch yourself smiling at your phone before reality hits you like a cold splash to the face. you sit down on the bench and glance around - the changing room is relatively empty except for some of the younger kids lounging around, waiting for their parents to pick them up and chirping excitedly amongst themselves.

you: now? you: in the rink? LSH: no silly LSH: let me take you out you: you do know every restaurant in a 50 mile radius is occupied by someone from the rink right LSH: i know a place… you: fine you: give me ten minutes

you poke your head out of the building, looking back and forth out the front door. the ground is covered in snow and footsteps from various boots and sneakers. the air is cold enough you can see your breath in front of you and the street lamp in the far off distance wavers as the harsh white lights of the rink continues to glare down on you.

“boo,” sanghyuk breathes into your ear, grabbing your wrist before you can jump up and slip on the snow-covered concrete - an indiscretion coach kim would’ve definitely executed you for.

“you scared me,” you hiss as the two of you scurry away from the door, shoulders brushing against each other - both deadly serious about not being caught within 10 meters of each other and your heads swivel like a ball on a stick to survey the area around you.

sanghyuk is bundled in his white puffer jacket, zipper zipped all the way to his chin as he rubs his glove-covered hands together. the tip of his nose is tinged red from the cold and he stuffs a hand warmer produced from his pockets into your bare hands.

“you look warm,” you mumble from behind your own jacket collar.

“i am,” sanghyuk says frankly, pulling out his phone from his jacket and taking his best stab at the screen with his gloved fingers.

“so, what’s this place you’re going to show me?” you shove your hands, hand warmer and all, into your pockets as you trudge behind him, leaving faint footsteps on the pavement with your boots.

“it’s a hole in the wall,” his footsteps slow down so you can catch up, “i used to go there everyday after practice - well, my mom would bring me there. she knows the owner, i think. it’s grandma’s friend? or a friend of a friend? anyways, donghyun said the food was too greasy, so you know no skater would be caught dead there. except for us, which means -”

sanghyuk looks back at you, blinks like he’s bewildered with the fact you’re still following him, and his neck flushes a light pink that you just about catch under the dim street lamps.

"mean what?” you laugh, "finish your sentence, sanghyuk.”

"nothing,” he mumbles, slapping a hand over the back of his neck as his pace quickens frantically.

sanghyuk hurried into an alleyway and didn’t look back for you, even when you wavered uncertainly at the alley entrance. not until he pulled a door that seemed like it was nearly falling off its hinges and beckoned you over did you scuttle down the alleyway.

the tteokbokki stall was awash in a warm golden light and the floor was appropriately tacky. steam heats up your face as sanghyuk pulled you down to a seat at the bar. he was right - there really wasn’t anyone you knew in the seats - just an elderly man reading a newspaper in the corner and teenage couple sat knee-to-knee near the door, whispering into each others ears.

the old woman behind the bar greets sanghyuk in a way that tells you they’re far too familiar with each other. she doesn’t say much, instead just plopping a steaming, heaping bowl of tteokbokki and a plate of fried mandu between the two of you before shuffling off towards the back, loudly announcing about how ‘sanghyuk-ie brought his girlfriend, dear!’.

“girlfriend?” you raise an eyebrow at sanghyuk, who is diligently unwrapping chopsticks with extreme care and deliberately avoiding your gaze.

“she says that about everyone i come here with,” sanghyuk mumbles, face red, “don’t read into it.”

“like donghyun?” you tease.

sanghyuk just pushes the bowl and chopsticks towards you, eyesight wandering elsewhere, “just eat.”

you pop a rice cake into your mouth and you understand immediately why donghyun would call it too greasy - it’s sweet and spicy and exactly the type of stuff you shouldn’t be eating a week out from competition. the mandu is probably the saltiest thing you’ve eaten this week, and god is it good.

“good?” sanghyuk asks, watching you with an intensity unfitting for… watching you eat.

“it’s fine,” you huff, even though you’re already reaching for another piece.

“liar,” he laughs, nudging you with his knee underneath the table.

he then proceeds to rest his chin on his palm, propped up on the table as he watches you eat out of the corner of his eye, his own chopsticks still wrapped in paper and untouched. you feel guilty enough that halfway through the bowl you push it back towards him and act uninterested enough for him to finally pick up his own pair of chopsticks, ripping apart the paper wrapping and digging into the tteokbokki.

for a while you sit there, awkwardly staring at the table until sanghyuk clears his throat.

“so,” he says, setting down his chopsticks, and turning to face you properly, “you didn’t give me an answer to my question in the training room.”

“i believe subin interrupted before i could,” you thrum your fingers against the lacquered wood counter.

“convenient,” sanghyuk flashes you an awkward smile. there’s no bite to his response, but rather a soft nervousness that makes it almost seem like he regrets asking in the first place, “so?”

you fiddle with a paper napkin, the corner already shredded from your earlier machinations as the same giddy nervousness from the hotel hallway overtakes you. in the background, an dilapidated tv drones on, replaying an old soap opera. the old lady behind the bar clashes with the exclamations from the characters by raising the volume on her radio, playing some old trot song you’ve probably heard before from your father’s collection. the bell above the door rings softly as the elderly man exits the store, and the soup behind the counter continues to bubble and boil.

“i spent the past weeks trying to block you on everything - messages, instagram, spotify - trying to avoid you in a stadium filled with hundreds of people,” you squeeze your eyes shut, “and none of it worked. you’re everywhere to me, even when i close my eyes, you’re right there.”

sanghyuk’s breath hitches - you catch it under all of the noise around you.

you open your eyes and force yourself to meet his eyes even as heat floods your face, “i didn’t want to say it because it felt like betraying coach kim. b - but yeah. not anymore.”

“not anymore?” sanghyuk prods.

you take a deep breath in, “i think i’m tired of coach trying to tell me who i can and can’t care about.”

a smile splits slowly across sanghyuk’s face, like a sun that peeks over the clouds. slowly, as if he’s afraid you’d bolt if he moved too quickly, he reaches out to cup his hand over yours on the table. his hands are colder than your own, and your heart drumming in your ears mirrors the rush of adrenaline you get when you nearly slam out of a jump on ice.

“for the record,” he says quietly, “i’m tired of that too.”

the old woman shuffles back, casts one look at your joined hands, and hums approvingly while refilling your cups. the two of you stare at her in embarrassing silence before she wanders away again, deliberately looking away as she whistles, all without a single word.

“so…” sanghyuk says, watching you cover his colder hands with your own. your warmth seeps into him, “what now?”

the ringing of your phone answers for you.

fs.session someone just spotted @ ynln and @ uriwoo_sh holding hands and eating out?? new couple alert??

“i promise i didn’t say anything,” subin whispers when you brush past her in the morning, your face set in a permanent frown.

“it’s fine,” you set down your equipment with a little more force than usual.

“i - i really didn’t!” subin pleads as she wrings her hands in worry.

“it’s alright, subin. i know,” you take a deep breath in, “you’re not in trouble.”

“i’m sorry,” she whispers.

“it’s gonna happen eventually,” you paused, “i just didn’t expect it to be literally right after.”

“[y/n] [l/n]!” coach kim shrieked from outside the locker room, “office! now!”

you sighed, “if i don’t come out alive, you know where i hid the money.”

subin nods solemnly.

when you enter coach kim’s room, she’s already pacing behind her desk.

“sit down,” she snaps.

she glares at you when you don’t, electing to just stand by the door.

“do you understand what you did wrong?” she waves a finger at you, “[y/n], you are my oldest student. of all people, i didn’t expect for you to do this to me.”

“i didn’t do anything to you,” you say lowly.

“what was that?”

“i said - i didn’t do anything to you!”

horror flashes across her face as you barrel on, “you’re the one who did this to yourself!”

“h - how dare you -!”

“i spent weeks tiptoeing around sanghyuk - pretending i hated him, because you said so. and then before that - jumping, competing, living - just because you said so! i did everything you asked me to - and more! just because you were my coach and i - i trusted you knew what was best for me!”

“that’s not -”

“why do you not want me to see him?” you stomp your feet in frustration, “so that you can feel like you’re winning over coach lee some way? that you finally have some sort of leverage on her? i’m just some sort of statement - pawn - in your game, aren’t i? but i’m not! i’m no longer a part of whatever shit you two have going on! i don’t want to be part of your feud - situationship!”

“[y/n], you’re not listening -” coach kim splutters.

“ten years,” you cut her off, “ten years you gave to sanghyuk. i get it, i really do. seeing him just walk away like that? it must hurt. i’ve always done what you told me to do - because i thought you knew better. but i’m not going to let you - let you just control me like this anymore!”

tears spring to your eyes as the room goes quiet - the humming of the air vents continues, the zamboni continues to truck along the ice, someone is blowing obnoxiously on a whistle. the world continues to spin as you and coach slow into a standstill.

“i do know better,” coach kim said quietly, her voice smaller than you have ever heard it, “i did thirty years of this. i know what it takes to be the best, [y/n]. what it takes to succeed.”

she thunders on, "you think this is all about me and taeyeon - and fine! i admit it! i am a revengeful, petty person! but do you know what happens to skaters who get distracted? they let someone else become the reason for their falls and pops and low scores. i’ve seen it happen. you’ve seen it happen - remember dongmin’s little girlfriend? she got distracted and now what? he’s dancing with another girl and all she can do is watch. i’m telling you, [y/n]. i do know better - i at least know better than you.”

she sits down heavily, breathing hard like her speech took the wind out of her.

“maybe,” you say quietly, “but you don’t get to decide who i love while you’re at it.”

the words land heavier than you meant it, and it feels daunting to say things you’ve never even admitted out loud to yourself before.

"why?” she whispers, "why do you have to make everything so hard? why am i the only one with a brain around here?!”

"you might have a brain, but you also have a heart. we all do.”

coach kim stares at you, her face contorts - into fury - then mellows out into something like grief. she slumps into her chair, like all of the fight was suddenly yanked out of her.

“does he really make you happy?” she asks, voice barely a whisper.

“yes.”

coach kim grows quiet, looking at her hands as she turns them over, back and forth, like she’s debating with herself what to say.

“are you going to leave me too?” she finally looks up.

you ball your fist.

“if i have to,” you eventually say, “if you don’t agree, t - then i don’t see how this can work out anymore…”

coach kim flinches like you slapped her across the face.

“i don’t want you to leave,” her voice cracks, “you’re my first skater - the one i truly made my own. before subin, before wonyoung, before even sanghyuk. you’re my skater.”

“i get it,” your voice wavers and you hate how you sound like that seven year old kid who wandered into the rink for the first time, “it’s hard.”

“i’m not -” she stops, swallowing harshly before speaking again, “i’m not good at this - goodbyes - letting go.”

“i know,” you say sharply, "i’m not saying it has to be now. i’m just saying you have to stop letting me and sanghyuk be part of your feud with coach lee.”

coach kim is silent - long enough for you to start planning your post-competitive career because you’re certain she’s already drafting your notice of dismissal letter in her head.

she steeples her fingers and places her elbows on the table, like she’s trying to hide her face.

"taeyeon and i’s… unique situation - cannot be resolved in just one talk in an office. but if lee sanghyuk truly makes you happy… and you truly feel that way… then i suppose i can’t do anything to dissuade you.”

you hold your tongue, in case a tremor or breath betrays you.

"i still remember when the both of you were still training doubles. the two of you would rather giggle and hold hands at the edge of the rink and i’d have to yell at you two to get to work,” she says quietly, more to herself than you, "where did they go? now look at you - telling off your coach in her own office.”

coach looks up at you.

"sanghyuk -” she stops, ruminating over her next words as her jaw works, "- tell him to lace his skates tighter. he keeps looking like he’s going to fall out of them.”

you nod slowly.

"go,” coach kim mumbles, shooing you away, "i better see a clear entry edge on your lutz tonight during the runthrough. and if i ever catch you slacking because you stayed up all night giggling while texting him, lee sanghyuk is toast. understand?”

"yes, ma’am,” you try to stop your voice from trembling.

coach kim massages her head, "taeyeon was… right. i shouldn’t let you kids pay for what she - we - did…”

she glares up at you, "why are you still standing there? i told you to go!”

you scramble out of her office before she can change her mind, nearly bumping into subin and wonyoung who both tried to pretend they didn’t have their ears pressed to the door.

"are you okay?” subin buzzes with worry, "d - do we have to say goodbye?”

you smile softly, "no - it’s fine.”

"are you sure?” subin frets, "this isn’t one of coach kim’s sick form of revenge, right?”

you pause, "at least for now - sanghyuk and i are okay.”

you pat subin on the head, driving your knuckles into her hair.

wonyoung makes a face, "sanghyuk and i,” she parrots.

subin grins, finally letting herself relax as she wraps her arms around you two, "you two are gross.”

your phone buzzes in your pocket, you don’t even have to check to see who it is.

LSH: are we still on for tonight? you: only if you ask me nicely (but yes) LSH: y/n l/n, will you go on a date with me? :)

but no promises ;)

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