airplanewishes | send in the clowns

send in the clowns
EXO | Suho/Chen | PG-13 | 12,817w
Romance
Joonmyun wonders if Jongdae is capable of being passionate about anything else other than figure skating.

Originally written for

criticalcapture.

send in the clowns

This isn’t exactly how Joonmyun had imagined the rest of his life would go. He’s always had big dreams for himself, ones that he’s nurtured since he was only five years old. He’s imagined himself traveling around the world for as long as he could doing what he loves, while maybe being with someone he truly cared about. But he supposes that, while dreams can be achieved, they also have limits. Still, he can’t complain about how his life is panning out. He still is doing what he loves. Sort of.

He clears his throat as he watches the ice glisten under the fluorescent lights as Jongdae glides across it, hands tight against the cold, metal hand railing around the rink. Joonmyun bites his lip as Jongdae, unfazed by his complicated footwork, skates right into a perfect Biellman spin his final move for his free skate program. Joonmyun holds his breath as Jongdae’s arms move slowly upwards and downwards alternately, giving the movement a more dramatic flair. This isn’t the first time that he’s seeing Jongdae skate but every time he does, it just leaves him breathless with awe. Jongdae’s natural elegance with his heart to win always produces a program with some of his best jumps and consistent level four spins. Even during practice runs, Jongdae makes sure to skate with as much energy as if it’s a skate that would matter.

“Good enough,” Brian mutters as he stands beside Joonmyun, clapping his shoulder. “Except for that near fall with that triple combination, pretty damn good skate.”

Joonmyun smiles as Brian walks away to receive Jongdae as he skates out of the ice. It’s tough getting a nice comment from Brian Orser. He’s a strict coach but Joonmyun’s noticed that it’s hard for him to give Jongdae critique because Jongdae hardly makes any mistakes during his programs.

Jongdae puts on his skate guards, nodding seriously at the comments that Brian is giving him as he dabs his face with the small towel handed to him. The muscles on Jongdae’s shoulders are tense as he moves to the kiss and cry zone with Brian. This isn’t an ordinary skating arena, not an ordinary skate. Joonmyun knows that Jongdae gave it his all and, while he almost missed a landing, Joonmyun believes that Jongdae will still come out on the top.

Joonmyun eyes the judges as they tally the scores. This is only Jongdae’s second time at the World Championships, finishing fifth the previous year, but he’s determined to get a medal this time around. Joonmyun can see the want in Jongdae, his eyes intent on the screen. On the plane to Nice, a year ago, Jongdae, while looking out of the window, told Joonmyun that there is nothing more that he wants in the world right now than to be the best figure skater he can be. Joonmyun thinks Jongdae is very well on his way there.

“Jongdae Kim.” Jongdae’s name echoes in the stadium as his scores are ready to be flashed.

There was a time when Joonmyun didn’t recognize the name, Jongdae being a newbie in the figure skating scene. Joonmyun was 15 years old when he first heard about Kim Jongdae, a rising star, winning practically every junior skating award there was. But, in no time, Jongdae’s name was the name everyone talked about. Not that Joonmyun is surprised. Jongdae is too good for anyone not to hear about him.

Joonmyun finds Jongdae’s eyes on him just after his score is announced and computed with his short program.

“Silver,” Joonmyun mouths as he holds a thumb up in his direction. “Not bad.”

Jongdae just shrugs smugly and Joonmyun, smiling, immediately makes his way back to the locker rooms to prepare Jongdae’s water, some towels and his jacket. Jongdae never likes being delayed for press things because he would always rather have them out of the way so he can go back to the hotel to rest. Chanyeol, one of the trainers, is there, fixing up what seems to be Yuna’s things.

Sure enough, Jongdae walks in with Brian shortly after and he makes a beeline for Joonmyun and everything he’s prepared for him. Jongdae wipes his sweat with a pristine and warm face towel, puts on his white jacket with ‘South Korea’ written on the back and the South Korean flag on the left breast and drinks his Evian.

“This isn’t cold enough,” Jongdae tells Joonmyun as he starts to move out of the room.

“Jongdae,” Chanyeol chides him lightly, frowning.

Jongdae merely rolls his eyes and walks out of the room with Brian in tow. Joonmyun chuckles as Chanyeol opens his mouth to call him out.

“Don’t worry about it,” Joonmyun assures him. “You know how he is.”

Jongdae has earned himself a name with the staff that works with him. He can be very demanding but Joonmyun reasons that it’s because Jongdae knows exactly what he wants and knows exactly how to get it. For someone so focused and dedicated to his sport, Joonmyun tends to give Jongdae leeway even when his demands get too demanding and very petty.

“Doesn’t mean we can all let it go like you always seem to do,” Chanyeol responds, shaking his head. “You’re an assistant coach and not his personal assistant. I don’t know how you can stand it.”

Joonmyun knows how he can but Chanyeol doesn’t need to know that. Either way, he may as well be Jongdae’s personal assistant; he doesn’t look after any other skater after all. He just smiles and squeezes Chanyeol’s shoulder and walks out of the room to watch Jongdae’s press conference with Patrick Chan and Denis Ten.

There’s a swell of pride in his chest as he watches Jongdae answer question after question thrown at him with confidence and pride. As the next best South Korean figure skater after Kim Yuna, skating along the likes of Patrick Chan and Yuzuru Hanyu, Joonmyun thinks Jongdae really has a lot to be proud of. The fierceness and determination in his skating shows all of that. Joonmyun still remembers a time when Jongdae barely knew how to answer questions, fumbling with his answers and blushing a pretty pink when he stutters. Now he barely even bats an eyelash. He’s come a long way.

“Tired,” Jongdae mutters in Joonmyun’s neck on the way to the hotel later on.

“We’re almost there,” Joonmyun quietly tells him, lightly patting Jongdae’s thigh and trying not to let their closeness get to him. “Just keep yourself awake a little bit more.”

“You can just carry me to my room,” Jongdae retorts softly, his voice muffled, lips pressing to Joonmyun’s skin.

“I’m tired, too,” Joonmyun reminds him with a chuckle. He’s always tired, more so these days than ever before. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes to remind himself that this is not the time to be feeling things and opens them again to squeeze Jongdae’s hand that’s reaching for his.

“Will you stay with me tonight, hyung?” Jongdae murmurs, his voice slurred and barely audible. It’s been a long day. “I think I need a massage.”

Joonmyun quietly blows out a breath at the request. The hotel can easily send a masseuse to Jongdae’s room, but Joonmyun knows it’s just Jongdae’s way of telling him that he doesn’t want to be alone that evening. It’s been an exciting day, winning silver during the World Championships doesn’t just happen to anyone, and Jongdae probably wants to revel in that even when he’s almost dead to the world.

“Okay,” Joonmyun whisper, looking out of the window. This is one of those times that Joonmyun pretends that Jongdae wants him, too.

It’s freezing when they return to Toronto. The trees have grown back their leaves and flowers have started to bloom again. But the winds are still cold and relentless. Joonmyun sucks in a breath, sharp and almost suffocating, as a blast of chilly air greets him when they get out of the van. He curls into himself, snuggling further into his coat, and looks hopefully at the entrance of the Toronto Cricket, Skating and Curling club, eager to get some warmth. Beside him, Jongdae is quiet, still a bit weary from the flight.

“You know we could always just go back to the apartment and get some sleep,” Joonmyun suggests, opening and closing his hands into fists so they wouldn’t be stiff.

It’s a good idea, to go and get some more rest. It hasn’t been 12 hours since they’ve arrived. There are bags under Jongdae’s eyes, his skin pasty and sallow, and the corners of his mouth are turned downward, which Joonmyun’s fingers itch to turn upside down. But Joonmyun knows that Jongdae is just eager to get back into the grind, to start training again, for the upcoming season.

Jongdae’s always been a hard worker and a perfectionist. He hardly takes a break, even when he’s overly exhausted, saying that it doesn’t matter if he’s tired now, it’ll be all worth it in the end. Joonmyun believes him. He knows what it feels like to have your hard work pay off in the end. But he also knows that rest is important. Still, when Jongdae is determined to do something, no one can really stop him.

Joonmyun waits, moving from side to side, as Jongdae looks at him and purses his lips. There’s something lurking behind Jongdae’s eyes as he plays with the ends of the black scarf tied around his neck. Most of the time Joonmyun thinks he’s good at reading people, like Chanyeol who wears his heart on his sleeve, seeming like he doesn’t have a care in the world, when he actually cares too much; or like Yixing, who looks like he doesn’t pay attention, when he’s the one who knows too much about everyone. But with reading Jongdae, Joonmyun isn’t very good. Jongdae is haughty and can be ruthless with his words when he’s disappointed, with himself or with someone else. Joonmyun rarely really knows what Jongdae is thinking.

“Are you tired?” Jongdae asks, brows furrowed and eyes sharp as he loosens the knot of his scarf. He’s steady on his feet, unlike Joonmyun, who keeps dancing just so he wouldn’t feel so cold.

“No,” Joonmyun tells him. He shakes his head, his bangs falling above his eyes; his hair’s getting too long. He reaches up to brush it away from his face, but then Jongdae is stepping forward and he drops his hand. “Let’s go in—“

Jongdae has unwrapped his scarf from around his neck and is putting it around Joonmyun’s. Joonmyun holds his breath as Jongdae’s fingers brush his neck as he fixes the scarf, tucking it underneath Joonmyun’s collar.

“You get too cold easily,” Jongdae mutters, lower lip in his mouth, eyes intent on what he’s doing. “It’s spring.”

“It’s barely spring. There’s still snow everywhere,” Joonmyun points out quietly, not entirely sure how to act. There are butterflies in his stomach, too many of them, that he places a hand on his tummy in an effort to calm them down.

“You get cold even when it’s summer,” Jongdae retorts, lips quirking up to a teasing smile, and Joonmyun grins.

Jongdae turns around with a huff and goes inside the club without another word. Joonmyun, meanwhile, just stands there for a minute, hands on Jongdae’s scarf that’s around his neck.

It’s not that much warmer in the skating area. The ice is fresh, still wet, like snow has just melted over it. It’s perfect for skating and Joonmyun feels the wetness in his fingertips just by looking at it. Joonmyun can see how cold it is with the smoke-like air hovering over it as he finds a spot on the bleachers. The arena is empty, save for Joonmyun and Jongdae, who is already on the ice.

Joonmyun sets up the video camera on a tripod as he prepares to record Jongdae’s rehearsal for the day, as Jongdae always likes to go through his practices. He’s his harshest critic, even when Joonmyun tells him to lighten up a bit. Joonmyun doesn’t want Jongdae to take the fun out of figure skating. He can see how much Jongdae loves it, but taking it too seriously might douse the fire of that love and leave him disappointed about everything.

Once upon a time, figure skating was everything to Joonmyun. He was once one of South Korea’s promising skaters, until it got too much and Joonmyun started falling more than flying. Before he knew it, it was over. Just in a snap of a finger. Just like that. Joonmyun doesn’t want that for Jongdae. Because losing something that’s everything to you can break you. Joonmyun is lucky that he found something else to love before he lost figure skating.

“Look who it is.”

Joonmyun looks up at the voice he would know anywhere; it’s light but with enough bite that can be cutting. He immediately stands up, grinning at Krystal, another South Korean skater under the tutelage of Brian Orser. “Hey,” he greets, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. Krystal has always been small, tiny and slim, but somehow she feels smaller in Joonmyun’s arms. “How have you been?”

“Good,” Krystal answers, one shoulder lifting as they take their seats. She leans into Joonmyun, her bony shoulder bearing into his arm. “How was Worlds? Saw Jongdae’s skate,” she continues, nodding at the ice, where Jongdae is standing in the middle of the rink. Her hair is now jet black, compared to the light brown that it was when they last saw each other. It’s longer, now reaching to her back. She tucks it behind her ears as she turns to him with a smile that hides her eyes behind two moon-like slits.

“Exciting,” Joonmyun tells her, grinning. It’s hard not to smile whenever he talks to Krystal. She has this amazingly strong presence that sometimes comes off as intimidating. But Joonmyun has known Krystal almost all his life and she’s been nothing but sweet and fun company. “I got to have my picture taken with Patrick.”

“You mean your twin,” Krystal teases, nudging him. Joonmyun bursts into loud laughter, which he immediately muffles in his hands. It’s been a running joke for a while now that he and Patrick Chan look a like. “I can’t believe you still get starstruck over skaters. You and Patrick are practically friends.”

Joonmyun shakes his head, still giggling. The thought of him and Patrick Chan looking alike, still ridiculous in his head. Personally, Joonmyun can’t see it, but he takes everyone’s word for it to make his life easier. “We barely see each other so we barely talk. I don’t think that counts as friendship,” he says.

“We barely see each other, too,” Krystal points out, a pout forming on her pink lips. It’s a pout that speaks of volumes because Krystal, being a girl who never really lets anyone see her weak, rarely ever pouts. He averts his gaze from her lips, as well as from the familiar tenderness in her eyes. There was a time when—he shakes his head and just grins at her, ruffling her hair. “Are you saying that we’re not friends?”

“Silly,” Joonmyun says, putting an arm around her and pulling her close. He can feel even more just how thinner she’s become. Training can really make one lose a lot of weight. “You’re one of my oldest and best friends. How could you think that?”

Krystal chuckles and then sighs, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I’m planning to do something big this year, something that will make me get invited to Grand Prix events and then maybe get seeded for Olympics and Worlds,” she shares softly, reaching for Joonmyun’s other hand and playing with his fingers. It’s something that Krystal does whenever she’s antsy and thinking hard about something. Which is a wonder that she’s doing it now because Krystal has always been sure about her skating, even if it’s taken her longer to reach the point where she is.

“This will be your year,” Joonmyun assures her. Krystal always used to tell him that when Joonmyun’s rank had fallen with a messed up short and free skate program during Cup of China that had failed to get him to the finals and to the Worlds. Joonmyun had believed her then even when he was unsuccessful. He hopes she believes him. She has so much more potential that he ever had.

Krystal and Jongdae started skating around the same time, just when Joonmyun was on his way out. But Joonmyun and Krystal known each other when he was only 10 years old and she was six. It has be almost two decades of friendship, one that Joonmyun truly cherishes, especially since he felt like they’d gone adrift once.

“Oppa,” Krystal murmurs, closing her eyes, and Joonmyun tightens his hold on her. It’s been a while since anyone, even Krystal, has called him oppa. Being away from Seoul for so long can do that. It’s like losing a piece of home. “It’s so tiring. I’ve been training everyday for the past few months and I still keep missing my jumps and my spins are still only level 3 spins.” Something else must be going on for her to be so worried like this.

“But you’re practicing,” Joonmyun says, pressing his cheek to the crown of her head. “And that will pay off. Tell you what,” he continues, pulling away to look at her. “I’ll help you work on your jumps and spins, while I’m here.” He brushes her hair away from her face.

Krystal scoffs, but there’s a brighter smile on her face and Joonmyun thinks he’s done his job. “Would Jongdae even let you? Aren’t you his own personal coach or something?” she says, eyes twinkling with something that Joonmyun doesn’t want to address.

“I can make time,” Joonmyun promises her, pulling away from her completely and keeping his hands on his lap. “He can do fine on his own even for a couple of hours.”

Krystal pulls Joonmyun into a tight hug and Joonmyun sighs, his hands securing themselves in the small of her back. He may not see Krystal all the time; they may not even talk as much as they used to, but she always feels like home. She always brings him back to those days when things were simpler, when he was just a boy, who wanted to be the best at figure skating and not a man, who’s grown up to want things that he can’t have.

“Always so sentimental,” Joonmyun teases as Krystal pulls away. She slaps his arm.

“I am not,” Krystal complains, turning in her seat to face the rink. She opens her mouth to say something more but she closes her mouth and gets up instead. “I should go.” Joonmyun stands up at her sudden take of leave. They’ve hardly caught up. She grins at him, patting his cheek. Her palm is soft and Joonmyun’s cheeks pink at the sudden rush of memories. “I’ll text you when I’m here for practice,” she says, glancing at the rink again. She wraps her arms around herself. “Right now, I think Jongdae needs you.”

“What?” Joonmyun asks, pout showing as he turns to where Jongdae is glaring at him. He sighs and waves at Krystal who yells, “He’s all yours!” at Jongdae before she’s out of the door.

When Joonmyun has made his way down to the rink, Jongdae is already skating to the side, arms crossed on his chest. Jongdae is breathing rather hard for someone who hasn’t really been skating for the past 15 minutes, his hair plastered to his forehead, the natural upward curl of his lips disappearing in his frown.

“I’ve been calling and waving at you for the past how many minutes,” Jongdae quips as he leans on the railing. His knuckles are white against the silver, metal bars. “What did Krystal want?”

“What do you need, Jongdae?” Joonmyun patiently asks, taking both of Jongdae’s hands off the railing to run his thumbs over his knuckles. It’s best if he doesn’t explain himself, as this would only annoy Jongdae more, knowing that he really doesn’t like it when Joonmyun’s attention is not on him. It took Jongdae a while to get used to the fact that he would have to share Brian Orser with other skaters, even if he’s already known about this. Joonmyun supposes that Jongdae takes comfort in knowing that Joonmyun is only his.

“I’m hungry,” is the only thing Jongdae says. His frown is more pronounced, but he drops his hands. “What did Krystal want?” he repeats.

“We were just catching up,” Joonmyun tells him. Jongdae takes his hands back and shoves them in his pockets. He’s never really warmed up to Krystal for reasons unfathomable to Joonmyun. Krystal may come off cold or strong in the beginning, but she’s not as aloof as everyone thinks she is. “I’ll get you food. Did you want anything in particular?”

Jongdae just stares at him for a moment, like he’s thinking if he should say something else. His shoulders are stiff, like his stance, and Joonmyun just wants to rub off the tension. Jongdae shakes his head. “Just salad,” he tells him before skating off.

Jongdae shakes his arms and rolls his shoulders as he gets back into doing jumps and spins. Joonmyun knows that Jongdae doesn’t mean it, that he’s not as mean or as rude as he comes off. He knows that Jongdae also doesn’t mean for his selfishness to come off as him needing Joonmyun in his life. But, sometimes, Jongdae really acts like he wants Joonmyun all to himself. And that kind of hurts and confuses him because Joonmyun has given up on the fact that he won’t be anyone else’s. It’s kind of heartbreaking to know that they mean things differently.

“Sorry I’m late!” Joonmyun practically yells as he dashes inside the arena, skates on hand. Brian looks up from where he’s writing something on a clipboard, face breaking into a small smile as Joonmyun practically trips in his haste. Yuzuru and Javier chuckle as Krystal spins out of a basic spin and skates to the side where Joonmyun’s started to put on his skates. “I forgot to set my alarm,” he explains.

“You should really get your own apartment,” Krystal comments, arms resting on the rails, the sleeves of her white t-shirt riding up her arms. Her hair is done in a bun today, wisps of it falling to the sides of her face. “Did Jongdae sleep with you again?”

The question makes Joonmyun flush even though he knows that Krystal meant it in the strictest sense of the word. She may have raised her eyebrows when she first caught Jongdae snuggling to Joonmyun in a past competition, but she knows by now that Jongdae tends to get lonely for a cuddle buddy while traveling around the world.

“I thought I set my alarm clock for 5 a.m.,” Joonmyun explains, only giving a nod to address Krystal’s question. “I probably forgot since I was so tired last night.” Jongdae had insisted in talking until the wee hours of them morning, even though he’d expressed that he and Krystal had a 6 a.m. training the following day. It’s already nearing 7 o’clock.

Krystal tilts her head so that she’s resting them on her arms when Joonmyun stands up to make his way onto the ice and test the stability of his skates. He’s mastered skating, knows it like the back of his hand. He knows how fast and slow he should go, knows how the blade glides and slices through the ice with each footwork, each spin and every jump. It doesn’t change the fact that it always feels new to him every time he’s on the ice. He’s always been the type who’s needed some warming up.

“Hmm,” is Krystal’s only remark before she’s pushing herself off the sides and towards the more central park of the ice. Javier is watching while Brian talks Yuzuru through the new program that he’s trying. “I’m having trouble with my sit spin, for one. I can’t seem to really tighten it up.” She’s then all business as she waits for Joonmyun, hands on her hips, authoritative and serious.

Joonmyun asks her to show him her routine and they get to work. Krystal has become more refined and poised, muting the obvious flair that she has. It adds even more beauty to her movements and, Joonmyun thinks with admiration, that this really will be Krystal’s year.

They go through her routine at least five times, until such time that Krystal’s problem areas are now only minimal issues, ones that she can handle on her own. Brian stands at the side, smiling approvingly at Joonmyun’s help and effort. Yuzuru has just grabbed Krystal’s hand so they could skate a warm down together when Jongdae arrives with a big grin on his face.

“Hyung!” Jongdae’s clear as crystal voice echoes in the arena, making the other skaters pause. “Hyung!” And then he’s sprinting towards the ice, getting on it even when Brian tells him that there are to be no shoes on the ice.

“What is it?” Joonmyun asks. Jongdae’s eyes are alight with exhilaration and elation. There’s an energy thrumming from him as his hands shake when he places them on Joonmyun’s shoulder.

“We’re going to Canada and Paris!” Jongdae announces before he’s jumping on Joonmyun, who barely balances enough to catch him and keep himself from falling flat on his butt. Jongdae may look like he’s skin and bone, but he’s actually all muscle. Joonmyun can feel

That only means one thing. Jongdae has been invited to Skate Canada and Trophee Eric Bompard. A skater needs to be invited to two Grand Prix events for them to skate into the final. Now that Jongdae’s done that, all he needs to do is to secure a place in the top six who will compete in Fukuoka. Joonmyun has no doubt that Jongdae will do what he can to get that position, just like he has no doubts that Jongdae will qualify for the Olympics or that he’ll make another appearance at Worlds. This means the world to Jongdae, however, who tries so hard to make a name for himself, to make himself noticed, to leave a mark. Sometimes, Joonmyun thinks, that Jongdae is trying to hard when he doesn’t need to. Everyone’s eyes in the figure skating world are on him and no one is going to look away any time soon.

Joonmyun watches as Jongdae talks about Paris and how they’re going to have so much fun, walking around and taking pictures of the Louvre Pyramid, the Seine river, the Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower, places he’s only read and dreamed about. This is the first time Jongdae’s been invited to the Paris competition and his happiness exudes with the way he gestures around, the way he blinks rapidly and how the corners of his lips are at a constant smile. Jongdae’s cheeks are pink and it’s the happiest Joonmyun has seen him since the World Championships.

“Where will you find the time to take a tour around Paris when you’ll be so busy preparing and doing interviews?” Joonmyun teases just to see Jongdae’s eyes flash with determination. His back straightens up and he purses his lips.

“No, hyung,” Jongdae declares, startling Joonmyun into the realization that this is the third time Jongdae has called him hyung in a span of 20 minutes. It’s been a while. Jongdae only ever really calls him hyung when he’s truly happy or when he’s tired and disarmed, and it feels like it’s been too long since Worlds. “You have to make sure I see all of Paris. We have to.”

Joonmyun laughs as he nods. Jongdae’s hand is warm with insistence on his thigh and there’s really nothing Joonmyun wants more than to fulfill Jongdae’s wishes when his touch is always so insistent. As if Joonmyun could look away, as if Joonmyun could do anything else. With him, Jongdae doesn’t even have to try, doesn’t even have to do anything. Joonmyun will look at Jongdae either way. He would probably do anything for Jongdae, too.

Every competition is different just like how each same program is different every time. No matter how many times a routine is perfected in the confines of practice runs, what counts is what you do during the competition. But, while others buckle and cave in to the pressure of skating in front of judges who have watched skaters for years and in front of audiences of have grown expectant of watching skaters fly, Jongdae skates with perfect ease, like he always does. Like he was born for this, like he was born to stun the world with the clarity of his strokes and feelings, like he was born to skate with everything on the line.

Sometimes, Joonmyun wonders if Jongdae is capable of being passionate about anything else other than figure skating. If Jongdae ever looks someone with the wonder that he has when he looks at the glistening ice beneath his feet, or whether he holds a person with the same reverence as he does the arena or if he ever beams at anyone the way he does when he receives a medal. Joonmyun wants to know if Jongdae will ever look a person the way he’s so clearly in love with figure skating and the life that he has because of it.

Some people never come close to finding and falling in love. Joonmyun once thought that his life would turn out that way, that figure skating would complete him and that it would be enough. It was once enough because it was all that Joonmyun had ever wanted. And with his parents’ support and Krystal by his side, it made him happy. While Joonmyun easily gets cold, being on the ice has always made him feel warm and comforted.

Joonmyun had seriously considered leaving the figure skating world when he found that he couldn’t skate as well as he could anymore. An injury can be detrimental to a skater’s career, as it was to Joonmyun. His back just wasn’t the same when he’d taken a rather dangerous fall that could have paralyzed him from the waist down and, he figured, why stay when there’s clearly nothing for him to come back to.

It was one of the most heartbreaking things he’s ever experienced in his life. His parents’ consoling words weren’t enough. His coach’s encouragement fell on deaf ears, because there’s no use continuing when he wouldn’t shine as bright, if not brighter, than he did before. Not even Krystal’s kisses were enough. There was just no point if he couldn’t fly as high.

But then things change.

Now, Joonmyun has Jongdae, and, sometimes, it’s more than enough.

“Fukuoka, here we come!” Jongdae yells as he grips Joonmyun’s hand as they go up the Eiffel Tower. Joonmyun had asked Brian for a day just to make sure that Jongdae gets the tour that he wants. It’s also to celebrate his inclusion in the Grand Prix final after a winning skate in the Trophee Eric Bompard.

The lights all over Paris at this height are even more breathtaking. The city of love shimmers beneath them like little stars converging to show them that there is heaven on earth. There is truth to this, but it’s not necessarily in Paris. It moves from place to place, from country to country, and Joonmyun follows because wherever Jongdae is, Joonmyun finds happiness. He doesn’t have to be at the top of the city of love to find love.

Jongdae stays close to Joonmyun, their sides touching as Jongdae continues holding his hand, recounting every perfect spin and jump that he had that secured him the silver medal even though he knows that Joonmyun was watching. Jongdae is even happier now than when he skated in Skate Canada. This one is pivotal because it decides whether he’s going to the finals, and whether he has a chance to skate to even further heights in the season.

When Jongdae is happy like this, it’s like he forgets that Joonmyun is his assistant coach, that Joonmyun is practically his assistant—someone he orders around, buys him food and water, someone who carries his bag and gives him a towel when he’s perspiring. Jongdae clings to him like Joonmyun is someone who matters, like he’s someone Jongdae wants to share this perfect moment with. It happens more often when Jongdae wins a medal and Joonmyun just returns his easy smiles.

“Hyung, I’m so happy,” Jongdae breathes out, sighing as he leans his head on Joonmyun’s shoulder, the city of Paris laid out before them. Joonmyun squeezes Jongdae’s hand in response.

Joonmyun likes that Jongdae is happy. It’s a genuine, and yet a selfish thought at the same time. There’s nothing more he wants than for Jongdae to continuously have that beautiful smile on his face. But Joonmyun also wants Jongdae like this, because a happy Jongdae makes Joonmyun forget that Jongdae doesn’t feel the same way.

Fukuoka is almost freezing in December with average temperatures of 8 degrees throughout the month. It’s beautiful with all the greenery despite being a metropolitan area and in spite of the rains. But the constant cold weather, in Toronto, in Paris, and, now Fukuoka make Joonmyun feel like he wants to chop his own head off his body just so he won’t feel any more pain. Honestly, all he wants to do is crawl onto his bed and bury himself there until it doesn’t feel like he’s going to explode like a supernova anymore.

Joonmyun doesn’t let his personal concerns get in the way of doing his job, though. Not when Jongdae is more anxious than he’s ever been since the season started. The Grand Prix Final is important to him. He only finished fourth the previous year and he wants to prove that he can finish within the top 3 this time. It takes everything in Joonmyun not to tell Jongdae that he doesn’t have to worry; he’s already proven himself. Saying so would only make Jongdae frown and shake his head and work even harder.

“You look like death,” Krystal tells him with wide, worried eyes as she sits beside him. She frowns when she does and presses even closer to him. “You also feel like you’re the king of the underworld.”

“That would be right,” Joonmyun mutters into his scarf, the same black one that Jongdae wrapped around his neck months ago, and pushes his gloved hands further into the pockets of his coat. “I feel cold.”

“You’re like a furnace.” Krystal presses her hand on his forehead and Joonmyun’s eyes flutter shut because her hand is cool and soothing. He leans into the touch, making Krystal sigh disapprovingly. When Joonmyun opens his eyes, her lips are pursed and one of her eyebrows is raised. “Why are you still here? You’re going to feel even worse later in the day.”

“Brian’s busy,” Joonmyun explains with a half shrug. “Someone needs to attend to Jongdae and tape his practice skate for tomorrow.” He doesn’t feel so bad once he focuses himself on not thinking about how he’d rather lie down on the floor and curl into himself. Jongdae would probably get upset if he doesn’t do his job.

“Joonmyun, seriously.” Krystal’s tone is snappish and bordering on harsh. “I don’t care that you’ve become Jongdae’s personal… something. You need to take care of yourself first. I can tape his damn practice for you. I’m sure he’ll understand if you tell—“

“No,” is Joonmyun’s abrupt response. He takes his hands out of his pockets and stands, the movement stilted and forced, as he fixes the angle of the camera. When he sits back down, he grunts, face scrunching only a little, in an effort to hide his discomfort. Krystal looks like she’s going to punch him. He wishes she would. Her punch would probably knock him out. “It’s fine. I’m fine,” he insists, smiling just to assure her even more. It probably doesn’t work because Krystal just slumps her shoulders in defeat and annoyance.

“I’ll go get you medicine and a bottle of water,” Krystal finally says, getting up and smoothing the back of her skirt. “Don’t die before I get back.”

Joonmyun doesn’t. But the medicines that Krystal gives him don’t help at all. It still feels like he’s going to self-combust any minute soon and he’s just glad that he’s in the confines of his bedroom now, alone and free to just close his eyes and wish that he would get well already. Jongdae didn’t even blink when Joonmyun had told him that he wanted to sleep by himself that night, merely turning away and hanging onto Javier’s arm.

It’s better this way, Joonmyun thinks, as he chest aches along with his whole body.

When Joonmyun wakes up, the beige curtains in his room are drawn open, showing the black, starry Japan sky. He blinks several times as he tries to get his bearings, only sitting up when he’s sure he’s not going to be dizzy and throw up from the movement. There are two bottles of water on his bedside table with two bottles of fever and headache pills, as well as a small basin containing lukewarm water. Someone must have been dabbing his head with the wet towel that he finds beside his pillow. Krystal over compensates with taking care of him sometimes, even when it’s not her responsibility anymore.

He reaches for his mobile phone inside his pocket, planning to text Krystal and thank her. He can’t thank her enough, to be honest, after everything that has happened. A thank you isn’t sufficient and Joonmyun feels unworthy.

The door opens just then and Joonmyun twitches at the sound, dropping his phone on edge of the bed and to the floor. Jongdae walks into the room with slow, soft steps, closing the door with a quiet click behind him. It takes Joonmyun a while to compose himself and hide his surprise.

“You missed my free skate program.” Jongdae’s jaw is tight and his hands are balled up into fists, the lines of his shoulders rigid. Joonmyun’s never missed watching any of his events before and Jongdae is upset.

Joonmyun sighs, hunching into himself as he plays with his fingers on his blanketed lap. What else could he tell Jongdae, except that he’s sorry? Joonmyun should really learn to look after himself more. But before he can voice his thoughts out, Jongdae is interrupting him.

“Don’t even apologize,” Jongdae snaps. He makes his way to the edge of the bed, sitting down. He then takes one pill out from each of the medicine bottles and hands them to Joonmyun, along with one of the glasses of water. “Drink your medicine.”

“How did you do?” Joonmyun asks instead once he’s obeyed and had drunk his medicine. He feels marginally better now that he’s had some sleep. It doesn’t feel like he’s going to explode and set everything close on fire anymore.

Jongdae purses his lips before he answers. “Bronze,” he mumbles. “I missed a landing and fumbled on a spin.”

Joonmyun reaches up before his brain can catch up to what he’s doing and presses his thumb, patting down the creases in between his eyebrows, until they disappear. Jongdae is looking at him with wide eyes, mouth parted ever so slightly, that Joonmyun chuckles and flicks his chin to close it. Joonmyun should stop staring at Jongdae’s lips and thinking about how he wants to kiss the curls of his mouth.

“Bronze is good,” Joonmyun tells him, voice a bit scratchy. “You’re going to do well in Seoul. You’re practically a shoo-in for the Olympics and for Worlds, you know that, right?” He leans back on the headboards and closes his eyes for a second, as he gets comfortable. Jongdae’s eyes sear beneath his eyelids so he opens them to meet Jongdae’s gaze.

Joonmyun thinks that Jongdae’s going to say something to voice out the disappointment and hurt that he sees in Jongdae’s eyes. There’s only so much that Joonmyun can say to apologize and appease him but he never gets the chance to say them because Jongdae only sighs and climbs onto the space beside him on the bed.

“Go back to sleep, hyung,” Jongdae mutters as his eyes flutter close. “Get some more rest. You look like you’re going to pass out. We leave for Seoul tomorrow and I’d rather you didn’t throw up the contents of your stomach on the plane.” He tugs Joonmyun down to his level and places his arm around Joonmyun’s waist.

There’s an imperceptible smile on Joonmyun’s lips as he falls back to sleep.

“Joonmyun!”

Lu Han doesn’t seem to have changed from what Joonmyun can see as he slides into the booth opposite him. Aside from his now bright pink hair, he still has that rosy complexion and that smile that always looks like it’s going to break his face. He also looks less like the wind is going to blow him away. His arms are fuller and he looks healthy, which makes Joonmyun happy.

“Hey!” Joonmyun greets. He’s about to ask where Minseok is, when the aforementioned guy, with shocking short platinum hair appears and sits beside Lu Han. He places three drinks on the table. Isn’t it too early for beer?” he asks, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

“Never too early for a celebration,” Minseok tells him with a wink, pushing his replica glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“And you being back is definitely cause of one,” Lu Han finishes.

It’s really like nothing has changed. Lu Han and Minseok still finish each other’s sentences like they’ve known each other since they were born. Close enough, though. They’ve known each other since they both started figure skating, along with Joonmyun. They were all together in their junior years.

They catch up like Joonmyun hadn’t avoided seeing them in the last three years he’s been back in Seoul for the South Korean Figure Skating Championships. It’s not like Lu Han and Minseok both continued figure skating after Joonmyun had left the sport; in fact, both of them had decided to move on to things that aren’t even really connected to skating. Lu Han had pursued his love for baking; while Minseok had gone on to get his law degree. But Joonmyun’s always felt embarrassed somehow, for some reason, and thought he couldn’t face them when he’d failed.

“How’s Soojung?” Minseok wants to know, taking a big gulp of his beer. It really is too early for beer, being only four in the afternoon, but Joonmyun grins at him.

“Good,” Joonmyun tells them, leaning forward on the table. “She wanted to come by the way, but she got herself on lockdown until the competition here is over.” Krystal is poised to go head-to-head with Yuna in two days and she’s taking it very seriously because this could be one of the many highlights of her career. Kim Yuna isn’t Queen Yuna for nothing.

“And how are you guys doing?” Minseok wiggles his eyebrows up and down.

There was a time that such teasing would make him blush to the roots of his hair, if only because he thought the world of Krystal. Joonmyun still does. But it’s not the same. Not when Joonmyun thinks the heaven of Jongdae. He shrugs.

“If anything, I’m glad she still accepted me as her friend,” Joonmyun admits. He and Krystal had never really defined their relationship in the past. The kisses spoke for themselves.

Lu Han scoffs into his beer, sending bubbles spewing on the table. Minseok shoots him a look as Joonmyun leans back a bit. Joonmyun watches as their fingertips linger on a bit longer when Minseok hands Lu Han a tissue paper.

“Krystal thought the world of you,” Lu Han tells him, echoing Joonmyun’s own sentiments. “Of course you broke her heart, but you forgive if only to preserve a little bit that wasn’t destroyed.”

Joonmyun worries his lower lip. He didn’t know exactly what happened when he left. But the moment that he was certain that he was going to stop skating, he decided to leave everything that reminded him of skating as well. His relationship with Krystal was one of the casualties. They never spoke about them even when Joonmyun was telling her his goodbyes. Krystal had cried through her smiles and wished him well.

“Thank you for looking out for her.” Joonmyun smiles at Lu Han and Minseok, close-lipped, in a way that doesn’t even encompass his gratefulness for having them take care of her in his absence.

Minseok waves dismissively. “She didn’t need it,” he reminds her. “We hardly did anything.”

Six months later, Krystal was in Toronto to skate under Brian Orser, much to Joonmyun’s surprise. It was where he went away to maybe start over. But meeting her there brought him right back to where he said he was never returning again. Krystal was the reason why Joonmyun met Jongdae again.

“Anyway,” Lu Han announces, slapping his hand on the tabletop. “Past is past, right? What’s important is the present.” He grins at Joonmyun like he knows something. Joonmyun shifts in his seat as Lu Han leans across the table. “How’s Kim Jongdae doing?”

Joonmyun swallows, pulling his hands off the table to place them on his lap, and sucks in an inaudible breath. There’s no way that anyone knows; he hasn’t told anyone. Krystal only found out because she’s perceptive that way and because she knows Joonmyun more than others do. But, other than her, no one knows. No one should.

“He’s… good,” Joonmyun says, going for the professional route. “His skating has improved from last season. I think he’s more determined now, more than ever, to get the gold medal.” His back is pressed on the seat, feeling like he’s cornered.

“C’mon, Joonmyun,” Lu Han continues, smirk growing bigger. “We know he’s a good skater. How was your date in Paris?” Minseok chuckles when Joonmyun turns bright red.

“How—“ Joonmyun chokes. He furrows his brows and lets out a breath. “Do you—did Soojung tell you?” He can’t think of anyone else who would keep Lu Han and Minseok updated like this. Brian Orser certainly isn’t buddy-buddy with them.

“We’ve remained friends throughout the years,” Lu Han tells him, his smile annoying enough that Joonmyun’s hand twitches a little in the want to slap it off. “She likes updating us with what’s going on with her.”

“But Jongdae and I have nothing to do with her,” Joonmyun blurts out. Minseok laughs a little and shakes his head and Joonmyun feels the uncertainty creep up on him like cold goo.

“On the contrary,” Minseok mutters with a knowing but sad smile. “You underestimate how much she cares about you.”

Krystal had introduced Joonmyun to Jongdae, reconnecting two friends who haven’t seen each other in years, Jongdae rising up the ranks, while Joonmyun fell off the radar. Krystal always invited him to go out and Jongdae always tagged along. Krystal and Jongdae trained together until such time came that Brian hired him to be one of the assistants. They went out together, ate meals, watched movies, and toured Toronto together. Eventually, Krystal became busier and busier and she started missing their outings, until she completely stopped going with them.

Joonmyun opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. How could he have not known? How could he ever apologize to Krystal and repay her for what she’s done for him? For giving way, for letting go of her pride and feelings for his. Joonmyun thinks that anything short of returning her feelings would be adequate, and he can’t give her that. The more painful thing is that she knows this. Krystal has known this all along and she did it anyway.

“You do know that she doesn’t care, right?” Lu Han nudges Joonmyun’s foot with his own. “I mean she’s okay now. She’s moved on so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Joonmyun breathes out. And he really doesn’t. There is nothing he can say.

“There’s nothing to say,” Lu Han responds. “Just be happy. That’s what she wants for you.” He quirks an eyebrow up.

Being happy means a confession, telling Jongdae how he feels, how he’s always felt all these years. But that would be unprofessional. Joonmyun is an assistant coach and breaking that trust could get him fired. Even if it didn’t, Jongdae could feel like Joonmyun’s taken advantage of their friendship all these years. It could mean losing Jongdae. Even if he didn’t lose Jongdae, there’s nothing else that Jongdae sees. Figure skating is his life. All Jongdae wants is to be the best figure skater he can be. Joonmyun isn’t sure how he can fit into that dream.

Joonmyun can be happy without telling Jongdae that he’s in love with him. He’s been doing it and managing for four years. He can do it for four more, at the very least, if it means watching Jongdae achieve him being his best in figure skating.

“I think,” Joonmyun begins in measured tones. “That this, what we have right now, is okay. There is nothing more I can ask for.”

Lu Han looks at Joonmyun with something akin to pity and Joonmyun looks away, staring at his hands on his lap. Even friends he hasn’t seen in years can see through the lie. Joonmyun doesn’t know how he lives with it, but he’s managed to everyday until now.

“Don’t you think it’s about time you ask for more than just okay?” Minseok beats Lu Han in asking the question. Joonmyun’s phone beeps just as Minseok continues. It’s Jongdae. “What if it works out?”

What if? Joonmyun asks himself as he traces Jongdae’s name on his screen.

Joonmyun doesn’t confess. Why ruin a good thing? Granted that it’s not exactly good the way Joonmyun wants it to be, he’s still not going to go and tell Jongdae that he loves him when it could mess up what they have. He’d rather have Jongdae like this than not at all. Joonmyun won’t risk not having Jongdae in his life.

So he distances himself.

He hangs out with Jinseo and Junhyoung the whole time they’re in Sochi, actually helping them out and not just pretending to coach them. Whenever Jongdae asks for him, Joonmyun pleadingly delegates some of his tasks to the other assistants (none of whom refuse because Joonmyun is always so kind), sometimes even to Chanyeol, and tells Jongdae that he’s busy with paperwork and with handling the team’s press commitments. Even when Jongdae throws something like a tantrum, Joonmyun doesn’t budge. Not this time. He needs the space to breathe and to make sure that he’s not going to do anything rash, that he’s not going to go and do something that might ruin the carefully put up façade he’s had around Jongdae all these years. Jongdae needs Joonmyun, his friend and assistant coach, not Joonmyun, the boy who’s been madly in love with him.

He doesn’t talk to Krystal either. It’s not because he doesn’t want to; he just doesn’t know how to. After all this time, she still manages to surprise him and still manages to make him feel special in a way that makes him feel lucky. Krystal is picky with friends; she’s even pickier with whom she dates. Joonmyun really was lucky to have been her choice once upon a time. He still is lucky to be her friend.

Jongdae’s irritation is noticeable with how he practically snaps at everyone who comes close to him that isn’t Joonmyun. Joonmyun observes as Jongdae seemingly struggles without him by his side. He almost gives in when Chanyeol unintentionally gives Jongdae food that has an ingredient that he’s allergic to, but stops himself when Jongdae shuts the door when he makes a move to follow him to his room.

Joonmyun’s gaze is intent on Jongdae as he practices his routine for the short program, sitting in a part of the bleachers near the exit. He tries to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, even wearing all black in his hopes not to be noticed. Jongdae is having problems, though, his movements not up to par as his usual and Joonmyun notices Brian trying to pacify Jongdae, as he gets frustrated.

“Whatever it is that you’re trying to accomplish, I think you’re failing.” Joonmyun jumps when Krystal plops down beside him. She’s wearing her performance clothes, sparkling red, that suits her long, dark hair. Joonmyun wonders if she’ll wear it down.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joonmyun mutters, staring at his hands. His nails have gotten longer. He should really cut them—Krystal grabs both his hands and squeezes them to make him look at her.

“I know what you’re trying to do.” Krystal is always so straightforward, sometimes to the point that people misconstrue it as being offensive and rude. But she is only ever honest. Joonmyun has always appreciated that about her. “It’s really not working,” she goes on. “If anything, it’s just making him and everyone else miserable, you included.”

Joonmyun looks at the way their hands are clasped together. He’s always been a bit fairer than she was, Krystal tanner, being an outdoor kind of girl, constantly out in the sun. Her fingers are slender and pretty in contrast to his thicker and stubbier ones. But they fit; their hands fit together. They have always fit in all ways, Krystal with her more outgoing personality and Joonmyun with his more conservative one. She’s never failed to fill in the gaps of his silences with her stories and melodic laughter. He was the patient one, content with what he has, while she was the eager one, looking for adventures and going for her dreams. They complemented each other so well that Joonmyun truly felt the loss when he left Seoul, when he left her.

“Soojung,” he starts softly, turning their hands so that hers were the ones on top. She really has lovely hands, so he lifts them up to his lips, eyes finally meeting hers.

“Don’t,” Krystal interrupts him. She pulls her hands away, placing them first on her lap and then pocketing them when they continue trembling. “We’re beyond apologies.”

Joonmyun swallows at the unfairness of that statement. Krystal deserves an apology from him, one that is four years too late. “I appreciate that you think that,” he says, sounding like he’s making too much of an effort to get his words out. It’s even more difficult to say things when you know you’ve hurt someone and you never made it right immediately. “But I can’t do that. I should have said something, should have apologized, a long time ago, back when we saw each other again in Toronto, maybe even earlier than that. I should have…” He trails away and takes a deep breath and stuffs his own hands in his jacket pockets.

“Well,” Krystal responds, pausing her when voice comes out shaky. “I appreciate that and I accept.” She leans back on the next bleachers step and inhales then exhales. “I was never mad at you, Joonmyun. Sure, it hurt,” she says, chuckling to ease the seriousness of her words. “But I understood. You did what you had to do for yourself. Who was I to stop you?”

“I never wanted to make you feel like you didn’t mean anything to me,” Joonmyun says, turning in his seat to face her, even when she looks straight ahead. Jongdae has just restarted his routine. “You were everything to me,” he says and hopes that she understands just how much she meant to him, how there was a time in his life when he thought he couldn’t be Joonmyun without Soojung. “You still mean… a lot to me—Soojung, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I don’t mean to—I never want to.” He’s scrambling for words to explain how valuable she is and how he is so sorry for doing this to her, for falling in love with someone else by her hands, as if that was her intention.

“I know.” Krystal has her head bowed, her hair forming a curtain around her face. If Joonmyun didn’t know her well, he wouldn’t think much of it. But Joonmyun does know her and he knows that she’s crying. But instead of putting an arm around her and pulling her close so he could wipe her tears away like he wants to, he clenches his fists tightly inside his pockets. It’s not the right thing to do. It wouldn’t be fair to comfort her when he’s the source of her tears.

Joonmyun shifts in his seat and leans back on the next step as well. He keeps his eyes on his lap, on the creases of his pants, how the cloth overlaps. Krystal is trying to be as quiet as she can, but Joonmyun can hear her sadness even with the way she keeps her feet together and with the rustle of her dress when she moves ever so minutely on her seat. Joonmyun wishes there was something he could do, but he knows that he’s done enough.

He tries to focus on something else, in the way that the air suddenly feels so humid or the way he’s shoelaces are unraveling or the fact that Jongdae is going through his routine for the fourth time. Joonmyun shakes his head. He can’t think about Jongdae right now. Not when he’s not sure when he’s apologizing to Krystal for his feelings for him.

“Don’t,” Krystal suddenly speaks up and Joonmyun whips his head to look at her. Her hair is tucked behind her ears, face clear of tears, although her eyes are red-rimmed. “I can hear you thinking,” she tells him, shaking her head. There’s a small smile on her face and Joonmyun tentatively smiles back. “Don’t be sorry for falling in love with Jongdae. That’s one thing you shouldn’t be sorry for. You shouldn’t be guilty for feeling that way. You didn’t cheat on me. We already broke up.” She pauses and chuckles, her eyes turning into crescents. “Well we weren’t actually together together so…” Shrugging, she runs her fingers through her hair.

“You’re my first love, Soojung,” Joonmyun croaks when he says it, the emotion surging through him, but he means it. Just because he’s never said it, doesn’t make it any less true.

Krystal smiles and it’s genuine. Joonmyun can’t see a hint of resentment in her features as she cups his face. “You’re mine, too,” she whispers and, even when there’s a trace of regret in her tone, Joonmyun can also hear the delight in it. They had a good thing, even if it didn’t last forever. “Always will be.”

“Well you can only have one first love, after all,” Joonmyun says, laughing as Krystal slaps his cheeks before taking her hands back to her lap.

Krystal sighs, the smile on her face is bigger. The lines on her shoulders are relaxed. She’s beautiful, Joonmyun thinks. He hopes that she finds someone who will make her happy. “I’m serious, Joonmyun,” she says. “Don’t let anyone make you feel bad for being in love with Jongdae. You’re allowed to be happy, too. Stop thinking of other people for a change.”

It’s only then that Joonmyun finally looks up to actually watch Jongdae skate through his routine. Jongdae goes through a series of complicated footwork, one that he’s been practicing relentlessly, into a quad, which is a jump he has perfected, but fumbles with right then. Joonmyun can’t help but stand up in concern as Jongdae falls, his hands catching him just in time. Jongdae’s hands will be bruised.

“He never remembers to wear his gloves,” Joonmyun mutters to no one in particular.

“Do yourself a favor and start talking to him again,” Krystal tells him, almost insistently, as she stands up as well. “You’re both torturing yourselves unnecessarily.”

“I’m not—“ Joonmyun starts but cuts himself off at the knowing look that Krystal gives him.

“Be happy, Joonmyun,” Krystal says, leaning forward to press a soft kiss on his cheek. “Whatever that means for you.”

Joonmyun watches her walk away until she disappears through the exit. He continues staring in gratitude even when it’s been a couple of minutes since she’s left. Joonmyun knows what Krystal is saying. It’s the same thing that Lu Han and Minseok suggested to him, the very thing that made Joonmyun stay away from Jongdae.

He looks up to check on Jongdae’s progress in his practice and finds that the music is still playing, but Jongdae has stopped skating at all. Jongdae is just standing there, unmoving, fists clenched, looking intently at Joonmyun. Suddenly, there are many things Joonmyun wants to say but before he can settle on one thing, Jongdae has turned around and has skated off the ice.

For some reason, Jongdae makes it easy for Joonmyun to avoid him the following days. It’s almost as if Jongdae goes out of his way so that Joonmyun wouldn’t spend so much effort in trying to dodge him. Even when Joonmyun goes to Jongdae’s practices, even when the South Korean team gets together for meetings or meals, Jongdae sits right by Brian or Chanyeol and Yuna, much to their confusion; Jongdae and Yuna barely talk.

It’s not fair to Jongdae, Joonmyun thinks, when he’s mulled things over some more. It’s not Jongdae’s fault that Joonmyun fell in love with him and has all these feelings bottled up to a point that it’s in danger of exploding. So Joonmyun tries to be a little less like a child and approaches Jongdae just before he’s set to skate his short program.

“Jongdae,” Joonmyun calls, a light touch on his arm to make him stop walking. Jongdae almost topples over in his surprise that Joonmyun doesn’t hesitate to grab his shoulders to keep him steady.

“What do you want?” Jongdae asks when his two feet at stable and pushes Joonmyun’s hands away from him. It stings, but Joonmyun supposes he deserves that.

“I just wanted to wish you lu—“ Joonmyun starts to say, but Jongdae cuts him off.

“No,” Jongdae snaps. “You don’t get to wish me luck. Not when you’ve been purposely avoiding me these past few days without any explanation.”

Joonmyun nods, accepting Jongdae’s anger. “I’m sorry,” he tries, looking at Jongdae, and is started to find two steely eyes looking back at him. Jongdae has never looked at him that way before. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t thinking and—“

“You weren’t thinking because you were too busy doing something else that’s not your job,” Jongdae interjects before Joonmyun could even finish. Joonmyun takes a step back, stunned at the harsh tone and the even harsher words. Jongdae has never spoken this way to him before. In fact, even when everyone calls Jongdae a diva, he is never truly rude and disrespectful.

“Jongdae,” Joonmyun says, voice shaking even when he tries to keep the shock at bay. “I’m—“

“What, are you going to apologize?” Jongdae snaps, crossing his arms on his chest as he frowns and averts his gaze. “What else are you going to do?” He scoffs. “I don’t understand you, you know. If you wanted your space to do… whatever it is that you want, you could just tell me, instead of avoiding me and…” He takes a deep breath. “Whatever, I’m done. You can do whatever you want with your life. It’s not like you’re anyone who—“

“Jongdae, shut up.” Joonmyun’s voice is like fire and ice at the same time and it hits Jongdae like a speeding bullet. He keeps his hands to his sides, although he wants to do something else with them, aside from clenching and unclenching them into fists. “I am an assistant coach, not your personal slave. I am not someone you can just demand things of, yell at or talk to like the way you did just now. You should never talk to anyone that way. I’m not going to allow you to talk to me that way anymore. I am your coach, too, and you should see me as such, as a person, who looks out for your well being, and respect me.” He takes a very deep breath when he feels his resolve wavering. “I understand that skating means the world to you, that it’s your life. But, once in a while, you should also look at the people around you. They’re worth caring about more than the sport you’re destroying relationships for.”

Jongdae’s mouth is hanging out, his arms having fallen to his sides, when Joonmyun turns around and walks away, mostly running away really. He locks himself in one of the bathroom stalls and sits on the closed toilet bowl, arms wrapped around his body, hunching in on himself. Several deep breaths calm him down considerably but he keeps his eyes squeezed shut.

If he’d stayed any longer, he would’ve gone on to tell Jongdae to care more about him than figure skating. It was a good thing that he managed to reign himself in because that wouldn’t do. If Joonmyun would ever tell Jongdae about his feels, it won’t be when he’s angry. As it stands, it doesn’t look like he’s even going to get the chance to talk to him any time soon, much less confess.

Joonmyun buries his face in his hands.

Jongdae’s eyes are focused on Brian as the coach gives out final instructions before Jongdae goes out to skate his free skate program. He’s skating second to the last, just before Yuzuru who’s short program score broke the 100-points barrier. The thought almost sends Joonmyun reeling. He’d picked a really bad time to pick a fight with Jongdae. This is one of the highlights of the season; they’re at the Olympics, which only happens once every four years. If Joonmyun screws this up for Jongdae, he wouldn’t forgive himself. Jongdae probably won’t forgive him, too.

Jongdae avoids his gaze like the plague. He flinches and frowns when Joonmyun so much as breathes in his general direction, which makes Joonmyun just curl up into himself even more because this is the last thing that he wanted. The reason why he’s never even entertained the thought of telling Jongdae his feelings until Lu Han and Minseok suggested it was because Joonmyun didn’t want this to happen. He didn’t want him and Jongdae to be awkward around each other; didn’t want them to be in a fight. Joonmyun doesn’t ever want to lose Jongdae.

Just before Jongdae goes on the ice, Joonmyun takes a leap of faith and reaches for Jongdae’s hand. Jongdae trembles at the touch but doesn’t pull his hand away.

“You’re going to be great out there,” Joonmyun tells him, eyes bright, and Jongdae’s own eyes widen with surprise, disbelief and gratefulness. He squeezes his hand and smiles, hoping that it’s enough of an apology for now. “Just like you always are.”

Joonmyun’s eyes never leave Jongdae for a second as he glides through the ice. His hands grip the metal railing, knuckles turning white at how firm his grip is, which tighten even more every time Jongdae does a jump or a spin. Jongdae is known for skating perfectly, his spins, footwork, and jumps always by the book. What Brian always tells him is that faultless technical elements only get a skater so far. What Jongdae needs to do is to skate from the heart. Jongdae tries, he always does, but it’s nothing like the way he’s skating now.

Jongdae is skating like each gesture, every wave of his hand, every spin, and every step has meaning. His jumps gain a height he’s never reached before and he lands each one of them with a flourish, as if he’s rejoicing about something more than just landing his jumps well. Jongdae’s face is expressing, his eyebrows furrowing at the right moments, his lips lifting to a smile when the song calls for it.

Jongdae is just explosive and Joonmyun can already imagine the remarks the commentators are giving on the live broadcast: He’s on fire tonight. He’s really into it and you can tell with the way he skates. He’s a joy to watch. They don’t fully encapsulate what Jongdae’s skating is like. But, then again, they’re not supposed to. They can’t. Jongdae is too breathtaking, beautiful to be described in just a sentence.

The audience is on their feet the moment Jongdae’s music stops and he does his last pose. His chest is heaving up and down as he breathes like he’s been holding his breath the whole time he was performing. Which he probably was. Joonmyun has been holding his own breath, at least.

Joonmyun covers his mouth with both hands in anticipation of Jongdae’s scores. Patrick Chan’s program earned marks close to Yuzuru’s, currently placing him in first place. Joonmyun knows how much this means to Jongdae, how standing on the top most position on the podium would make him so happy. But, even if Jongdae doesn’t get the gold, Joonmyun just knows that he’ll be standing on the podium either way. It doesn’t even matter if he gets silver or bronze. He never even qualified for the Olympics before. He’s a winner no matter what happens. In Joonmyun’s eyes, Jongdae never has been anything less than great. In and out of the—

Silver. Jongdae is currently in first place, outscoring Patrick Chan, which means he has a sure shot at the silver medal.

He searches for Jongdae in the crowd, once Jongdae’s left the kiss and cry zone. Joonmyun decides to just wave and catch his attention from a little ways from the back and holding his two thumbs up towards him, a vey lame way to tell Jongdae Congratulations! You were great!. But it’s all Joonmyun can do from the sidelines. The whole world is looking at Kim Jongdae. Joonmyun is just a speck in Jongdae’s galaxy.

Joonmyun pushes through the crowd and makes his way to the locker rooms. That is enough for now. He knows that he and Jongdae have a lot to talk about, starting from his outburst the day before. Jongdae is probably wondering what brought that on. Or maybe Jongdae isn’t thinking about it at all. Why would he think about little Kim Joonmyun, who is just an assistant after all. He’s a nobody, compared to Kim Jongdae, who’s now going to be a household name and who’s going to fly so high and shine so bright that would make it hard, even for Joonmyun, to look at him.

He takes Jongdae’s bag and pulls out a towel, a bottle of Evian, and Jongdae’s white South Korean jacket. Jongdae would want them immediately when he’s done receiving everyone’s congratulations and before he goes to the awarding and then the press conference.

Joonmyun sits down on one of the benches, the reality of Jongdae’s win hitting him. Jongdae is a silver medalist in the Olympics. Jongdae is an Olympic medalist. He will have the title with him forever and Jongdae’s life isn’t going to be the same again. Jongdae has achieved his dream. He is the best figure skater he can be at this point in his career. Joonmyun feels so proud. He suddenly wishes that he hadn’t pulled that stunt of ignoring him and thinking about his feelings more than Jongdae’s well being.

It doesn’t matter—

The door slams open and Joonmyun immediately gets up as a response. Jongdae walks inside the room and kicks the door closed right into Chanyeol’s face. He locks the door and walks towards Joonmyun with a purpose that Joonmyun’s never seen from him before.

Before Joonmyun knows what’s happening, Jongdae is pushing him against a wall and is kissing him. It takes Joonmyun a couple to absorb what’s happening, and when he does, he almost pushes Jongdae away because Jongdae is kissing him how what why. But Jongdae just wraps an arm around Joonmyun’s waist to keep his close, his other hand cupping Joonmyun’s cheek.

Joonmyun gives in and kisses Jongdae back with equal fervor. Jongdae’s lips are chapped and cold from skating and probably from the air-conditioning, but Joonmyun doesn’t mind—he doesn’t care. Kissing Jongdae is everything he’s imagined and more, from the way Jongdae seems to be overcompensating for something by moving his lips against Joonmyun insistently, to the way his tongue traces the seam of Joonmyun’s lips, asking for access. It’s not perfect. Jongdae isn’t the best kisser out there, but Joonmyun thinks this is a cause for learning, for the both of them. There is still so much about each other that they have to learn, and so much that they have to talk about.

“Jongdae,” Joonmyun blurts out, pulling away and keeping his hands on Jongdae’s chest. Jongdae’s lips are too pink, too inviting that Joonmyun leans forward to kiss him a little bit more, but pulls away when Jongdae responds all to eagerly. His hair is standing in too many different directions and his eyeliner is smudged, but Joonmyun thinks Jongdae’s never looked so lovely. “I’m sorry for what I said—“

“I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like a personal assistant, if I’ve made you feel disrespected or if I was rude or made you feel anything less than you are,” Jongdae babbles. “You are great. But I work so hard at skating because I want you to look at me, hyung.” Joonmyun chokes on his own breath. “I only want you to notice me, to see me as something more that Kim Jongdae that skater who idolized you.”

“You… idolized me?” Joonmyun can’t help but ask. He can’t even begin to process the other things that Jongdae’s just said.

“Hyung,” Jongdae continues, almost whining. “This is all because of you,” he tells him, his half-lidded eyes piercing into Joonmyun’s. Both his hands cup Joonmyun’s face as he presses their foreheads together. “Everything is because of you, hyung. Skating only seems like it means the world to me only because it clearly means the world to you.”

Joonmyun pulls away in astonishment and confusion. He blinks several times as he tries to get what Jongdae said through his head. “What?”

“Skating is everything to you, hyung,” Jongdae repeats, dropping his hands to Joonmyun’s shoulders. The touch is tentative, like he thinks Joonmyun will push him away. “The way you coach me, asking me to be precise, perfecting my spins and jumps so I figured it’s a good way to get you to notice me. If I do so well, if I become great, you’ll look at me more and you’ll see that I—“

Joonmyun laughs. “That’s my job, Jongdae. I’m doing my job when I do all those things,” he tells him, taking a small step forward to assure Jongdae that he’s not going to push him away, that he’s not going anywhere. “Besides, I only repeat what Brian tells you. Skating isn’t everything to me.”

Jongdae’s forehead scrunches up, his brows furrowing, and his lips pursing. “But—“

“You are,” Joonmyun continues before Jongdae can say everything else.

Jongdae’s face clears of any concern. Joonmyun smiles at him, brushing Jongdae’s hair away from his face and opens his mouth to explain further. But he does get very far, because Jongdae kisses him again.

Joonmyun gives in and kisses him back with a smile on his lips.

Joonmyun’s imagined the rest of his life to go differently. He’s always had big dreams for himself, ones that he’s nurtured ever since he was very young. But dreams can change and even disappear due to certain circumstances. Joonmyun’s dreams changed drastically when he got injured and he almost quit figure skating completely.

Until he met Jongdae again.

That second meeting changed his life. It changed Joonmyun’s priorities and made his dreams evolve into bigger, more heartfelt ones. This time it wasn’t just about him and a sport anymore. This time, it was about Joonmyun and another person, someone, he thinks, he can love his whole life.

He’s imagined himself traveling around the world for as long as he could doing what he loves, while maybe being with someone he truly cared about. And, while he thought that dreams have limits, this particular one doesn’t.

Because Jongdae is limitless and there are so many ways that Joonmyun can love him.

Author's Notes:

1. Timeline goes like this:
2013
March – World Championships
Training
October – Skate Canada
November – Trophee Eric Bompard
December – Grand Prix Final in Fukuoka

2014
January – South Koren Figure Skating Championships
February – Sochi Olympics

After that it’s World Championships again.

All of these are real figure skating events actually held in the months mentioned.

2. Figure Skating season start in August.

3. Brian Orser was an Olympic silver medalist, became a World champion, as well as became a Canadian national champion. He is currently a coach, coaching the likes of Yuzuru Hanyu and Javier Fernandez, who are real skaters. He also coached Kim Yuna from 2007 to 2010.

4. Patrick Chan and Denis Ten are also real skaters. Patrick Chan is a Canadian figure skater that is said to look like Joonmyun. You can look it up. LOL.

5. Toronto Cricket, Skating and Curling Club is an actually club, where Hanyu and Fernandez train with Nam Nguyen, another figure skater.

6. Kim Jinseo and Lee Junhyoung, both mentioned briefly, are actually male Korean figure skaters. In fact, Kim Jinseo is the 2014 South Korean National Champion, Men’s Division. Both of them, however, didn’t actually qualify for the Sochi Olympics.

7. Kim Yuna is, of course, real and may or may not, have a thing with Chanyeol in the fic.

8. Jongdae’s rankings in the events are all fictitious, but Yuzuru Hanyu, Patrick Chan, and Denis Ten are almost always in the top three so I just normally moved one of them down to accommodate Jongdae.

9. Send in the Clowns is the title of an actual song. It’s also the song Kim Yuna used for her short program in the 2013-14 figure skating season.

10. I understand that there may be inconsistencies with actual figure skating events or rules or whatever, but I hope it was believable anyway. I also understand that Jongdae’s character here is different, but I felt that the fic prompt called for it. Anyway, thank you for the lovely prompts. I hope I did this justice. :-*

send in the clowns

Loved this!