Chapter 1: Reluctant
Chapter Text
The arena was silent, except for the sound of blades slicing into ice. Sunghoon’s breath rose in steady bursts, the cold air brushing against his face as he finally landed a clean triple axel. The world outside the rink didn’t matter- reporters, flashing cameras, headlines calling him the Ice Prince. None of it reached him here. On the ice, he was stripped down to muscle, discipline, and instinct.
And yet, even here, he couldn’t escape it completely.
From the bleachers, his coach’s voice cut through the crisp air. “Sunghoon, reporters are waiting after practice. Don’t keep them long.”
Sunghoon grimaced, spinning into a final flourish before sliding to a stop. His reflection stared back at him in the glassy rink boards: pale skin glistening with sweat, sharp jawline cutting like stone, features so refined they almost looked carved. He knew how he looked stunning, cold, untouchable. The media adored that image, and they refused to let him be anything else.
The moment his skates left the ice, the world shifted. Assistants rushed in with towels, a photographer tried to sneak a picture despite his obvious irritation, and murmurs followed him down the hallway like a shadow. He tugged his jacket tighter, jaw clenched.
He didn’t care about interviews. He didn’t care about flashing lights or fake smiles. All he cared about was skating—everything else was noise.
When he entered the lounge, the others were already there, Heeseung stretched lazily on the couch, Jay flipping through his phone, and Jungwon jotting something in a notebook. Jake and Ni-ki were in the corner, arguing over snacks as if practice hadn’t drained them at all.
Sunghoon slumped into a chair, running a hand through his damp hair.
“Rough practice?” Heeseung asked without looking up.
Sunghoon smirked faintly. “Rougher were the five people who tried to shove tissues at me on the way here. Do I look like I’m bleeding?”
The others laughed, and for a moment, the Ice Prince mask cracked. With his teammates, he wasn’t stone. He could tease, joke, let the sharp edges soften.
But the door opened, and the mood shifted.
A boy stepped inside, his presence immediately commanding attention, though not in the same way Sunghoon’s did. He was striking in a different sense: smooth skin, features delicate but not fragile, eyes bright with intelligence. His style was carefully curated—pastels, a touch of gloss on his lips, hair effortlessly perfect. Pretty, yes, but carried with a confidence that made him seem almost untouchable in his own way.
“Everyone, this is Sunoo,” their manager announced. “He’ll be joining the team as Sunghoon’s media trainer.”
Sunghoon’s head snapped up. Media trainer?
Sunoo’s gaze found him instantly, and his smile bloomed like it had been rehearsed for just this moment. “It’s such an honor to meet you finally,” he said warmly, his voice carrying a blend of friendliness and authority. “I’ve been following your career for a while. You’re incredible.”
Sunghoon didn’t respond. He kept his face blank, though irritation pricked at him.
Sunoo sat across from him, posture relaxed but eyes sharp. “Here’s the thing. With the Olympics coming up, you’ve got the world’s attention. You already have this…” his hand gestured vaguely at Sunghoon, almost reverently, “whole appearance thing that people go crazy for, serious aura- it sells. You could profit off it like crazy.”
The others stifled chuckles. Jay muttered, “He’s not wrong.”
Sunghoon’s eye twitched. Profit? Off his face? He hated how clinical it sounded. Like he was a product, not a person.
“I’m not here to entertain,” Sunghoon said finally, his tone clipped. “I’m here to win.”
For the first time, Sunoo leaned forward, meeting him head-on. “Winning gets you medals. But image? That gets you remembered. It gets you sponsors, fans, and leverage. Trust me—together, we can make the world see who you really are.”
Sunghoon scoffed, standing. “Who you want me to be, you mean. Fake smiles, staged interviews, a perfect puppet for the cameras. No thanks.”
The room went quiet.
Even Jake and Ni-ki stopped their bickering.
But Sunoo didn’t flinch. His pretty face was set with determination, his eyes glittering with confidence. “That’s fine. You don’t have to like me. But you’re stuck with me.”
A beat of silence. Sunghoon looked at him properly now. The boy’s smile was too bright, too sure. He wasn’t intimidated, if anything, he seemed amused.
“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sunoo said with a casual wave, as if the argument had already been won.
When he left, Heeseung let out a low whistle. “Bold one, huh?”
“Media trainer,” Sunghoon muttered, dropping back into his chair. He pulled his hood up over his damp hair and smirked faintly. “Great. Can’t wait to learn how to smile like a toothpaste ad.”
The others laughed again, but Sunghoon’s mind wasn’t on the joke.
For the first time in a long time, someone hadn’t bent beneath his coldness.
And he wasn’t sure whether he hated it, or was intrigued.
Chapter 2: breaking the ice
Chapter Text
Sunghoon leaned back on the bench, the locker room’s fluorescent lights buzzing softly above him. His skates were off, but the ache in his legs hadn’t gone away. He rubbed at his calves, wishing the tight knot in his chest would ease just as easily. The Olympics were close now, and the pressure was suffocating- not just the physical demands, but everything else: media, sponsors, the endless polishing of an image he didn’t recognize as his own.
Coach Han crouched beside him, gray hair damp with the rink’s humidity. “You’re pushing too hard again,” he said gently.
Sunghoon let out a humorless laugh. “I’m training. That’s what I do.”
“Not like this.” The coach’s voice softened. “You’re stressed. And it’s not just your jumps. You’re worried about the image stuff, aren’t you?”
Sunghoon’s jaw clenched. He didn’t want to talk about it. About the press conferences, the staged photos, the interviews that felt like auditions to be someone else. But the words slipped out anyway. “I don’t want to sell out. I’m here to skate, not smile for cameras.”
Coach Han sighed but nodded. “I get it. But media presence is part of your career now. You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not. You just need to… share a piece of yourself. And Sunoo can help you with that.”
Sunghoon tensed. Sunoo . The bubbly, infuriatingly confident media trainer who seemed to know how to push every button Sunghoon had.
The first session was a collision.
Sunoo sat across from him, slim and impossibly put together. His hair was soft and perfectly tousled, lips curved in a constant, teasing smile, and his eyes… God, his eyes were sharp under long lashes, like they were seeing through Sunghoon’s carefully constructed walls. Pretty, almost delicate, but carried with undeniable authority. Sunghoon didn’t like feeling observed , yet somehow, he couldn’t look away.
“Alright, Mr. Ice Prince,” Sunoo began, using the nickname like a scalpel on Sunghoon’s composure, “let’s warm up. Imagine me as a reporter. I ask a question. You answer naturally. Friendly. Approachable.”
Sunghoon snorted. “I’m naturally not taking this serious. That’s about it.”
Sunoo grin widened. “Perfect. That’s exactly why we need to work on this. Your fans don’t want a machine. They want… you. And yes, that includes your… deadly serious brooding. It’s marketable, trust me.”
Sunghoon’s stomach twisted. Marketable. Selling his face, his body language, the very way he existed, it made him uneasy.
“I’m not here to entertain,” he said flatly.
“Wrong answer,” Sunoo countered, leaning forward. “The Ice Prince isn’t just a persona — it’s part of you. You could profit off it, but more importantly, you could own it in a way that’s still real. You just haven’t let anyone see past the ice.”
Sunghoon’s throat tightened. He opened his mouth to argue, but no words came. Instead, heat crept up his neck, a flush he didn’t want to admit to. He hated the way Sunoo made him feel seen.
Hours later, after practice, Sunghoon lingered in the locker room. The space smelled of sweat and disinfectant, echoes of laughter from the empty rink fading behind the walls. He was exhausted, tense, and still caught in the tight coil of the jinx he hadn’t yet fulfilled.
“Sunghoon?” Sunoo’s voice was soft but unmistakably close. Sunghoon glanced up to see him leaning casually against the locker across from him, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “Ice Prince looks like he’s melting.”
Sunghoon froze. The nickname, soft as it was, pricked at something raw inside him. “Leave it,” he muttered, turning to face his locker.
Sunoo stepped closer, deliberately, the heat of his presence brushing against Sunghoon’s skin. “I’m serious. You’ve been wound up all day. If you don’t let go, you’re going to choke out there.”
Sunghoon swallowed, heart hammering, and yet a stubborn edge stayed. “You don’t get it.”
“Then make me get it,” Sunoo whispered, leaning closer until the faintest warmth of his breath brushed Sunghoon’s ear.
The world narrowed. The locker, the tiles, the fluorescent lights- all of it faded. There was only Sunoo, only this impossible pull. Sunghoon’s hands trembled slightly as they brushed against Sunoo chest in a reflex he didn’t intend. Sunoo's hand caught his wrist, holding him in place.
“Still think you’re untouchable, Ice Prince?” Sunoo teased again, and Sunghoon’s pulse spiked.
The teasing was unbearable. Heat pooled low in his stomach. He wanted to push Sunoo away, but his body betrayed him, shifting closer without thinking. Sunoo's smirk softened into something more vulnerable , a flicker of the man behind the confident mask.
Then it happened.
Sunoo knelt before him, deliberate, hands brushing over Sunghoon’s thighs, gentle but demanding. Sunghoon’s knees weakened, his breath coming in shallow bursts. The teasing tone remained, but the intimacy had deepened- Sunoo's eyes held him captive, daring and gentle all at once.
“Not so icy now,” Sunoo murmured, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. The whisper sent shivers through Sunghoon.
And just like that, the dam broke. Sunghoon’s hands tangled in Sunoo's hair, gripping, pulling, and needing. Sunoo's lips found his neck, trailing heat down the slope of his collarbone, teasing, worshipful. Every touch, every whisper, every small, deliberate motion drove Sunghoon further into the heat he hadn’t expected to feel, hadn’t allowed himself to feel real affection outside his jinx in years.
Sunghoon gasped, pressing closer. “Sunoo…” His voice was ragged, pleading, part of him desperate to stop, part of him begging for more.
Sunoo’s hand threaded into the waistband of his pants, teasing him with precision, making Sunghoon shiver and groan. The teasing became urgent, bold, unrelenting- yet beneath the heat, a softness lingered, a promise that nothing here was cruel.
“You don’t have to say anything, hyung ” Sunoo murmured. “Just feel.”
And Sunghoon did. Every nerve on fire, every pulse racing. The world contracted to the feel of Sunoo- strong hands, warm lips, steady gaze- drawing him in and melting him simultaneously. The teasing nickname, the confident smile, the quiet vulnerability under it all-- it was intoxicating.
Afterwards, they stayed close but separate. Sunghoon leaned against the locker, sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead, chest heaving. Sunoo straightened, adjusting his clothes quickly, avoiding Sunghoon’s gaze.
“I…” Sunghoon started, but Sunoo held up a hand to Sunghoon's jumper.
“Don’t,” he said softly. “You got what you needed. That’s enough. And I… can’t do more. Not yet.”
Sunghoon’s chest tightened. Relief and frustration warred inside him. He wanted more, wanted Sunoo to let go, to break down the last of his walls. But Sunoo’s refusal wasn’t rejection- it was protection, honesty wrapped in hesitance, layered over a quiet vulnerability Sunghoon hadn’t expected to see.
Sunghoon’s heart thudded, pulse still racing, and for the first time all day, he felt seen. Not just as the Ice Prince, not just as a skater, but as himself- messy, conflicted, human.
And it scared him