Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I came here with Sunghoon.” The boy tells him in a voice so fluid, that it almost feels casual. Perhaps it is, perhaps all of this is casual to everyone in the way it should be for him too. The mere thought is too humiliating to bear for more than a second. The brunette’s tone doesn’t tremble or falter for a single instance, after all, there’s no reason for it to crumble. His smile; sweet and soft, and confident remains in place like his lips refuse to drop it. And then, like a sudden realization hits him, his eyebrows rise as his eyes go wide. “Park!” He chirps, as if Sunoo needs the clarification. As if there’s another Sunghoon out there that matters. “Park Sunghoon.” He says in a small chuckle. “Do you know him?” The boy asks next. 

Sunoo fights back a scoff, one that tastes sour and foul, almost like the tea that had burned his tongue that morning. He swallows it down with a noise that sounds like a cough, stiff and ugly enough that he has to mask it with a smile as friendly as he can make it. After all, none of this is really Jaeyun’s fault, no matter how much he would like it to be. He’s likeable, it pains him to admit. The boy is pretty; huge sparkly eyes and soft chestnut hair that makes him look like a puppy, a permanent smile on his pink, plump lips that he gives to everyone in the place without hesitation, the hint of an accent tinting his words with just enough uniqueness to make one wonder, to make one care… Sunoo had heard his name in the hall, covered in Sunghoon’s mother’s voice like she was caressing a marvel. Jaeyun. 

It’s fine. The question almost makes him laugh now that he thinks about it again, savouring the thousand possible answers he could give. Does he know Park Sunghoon? 

He lets himself consider it for a moment. What answer would Jaeyun like the most? 

Yes, we went to the same school. Yes, we used to train together. Yes, we live in the same street. 

He feels his smile turn sideways, stretching until it becomes a smirk laced with acid. Yes, his tongue has been in my mouth, his hands all over my body. Didn’t he tell you? 

“Who doesn’t?” Sunoo mutters in the end. 

“True!” Jaeyun laughs joyfully, his head tilting to the side as his eyes become smaller from the way the corners of his mouth stretch. “He’s pretty good, huh?” 

“The best.” He lets out past gritted teeth. 

“Right, they don’t call him the Ice Prince for nothing.” Jaeyun giggles. 

It’s not a lie, really. Sunghoon was born to be just that; a star, the brightest one, no less. Sunghoon was crafted to be number one, that’s a truth everyone knew from the start. 

Perhaps, if Sunoo had realized it sooner, he could have saved himself some whispers, some touches, definitely some time. 

“But you must be pretty good yourself.” The boy hums, almost like he’s talking to himself. “If you are competing against him, I mean.” 

“Not good enough to beat him.” He snickers. Sunghoon’s mother’s words come back to him, still fresh despite the time and distance. 

But Jaeyun laughs again, light and real, unlike Sunoo. “Don’t say that! You’re Sunoo, no?” And then the boy’s hands are on him, warm and kind around his forearm, but the touch burns his skin. He finds it a little hard to believe Sunghoon hadn’t mentioned him in front of Jaeyun before, but he also finds it laughable to believe that he knows anything about Sunghoon at all. If nothing else is honest around them, Jaeyun sure as hell seems to be, with that crystal clear gaze and open aura, fearless and free of guilt. “I heard some kids in the hallway earlier. Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this, but between the two of us, they’re really worried about going against you! You must be a real threat, hm?”

A threat. That actually makes him smile. It’s been a while since anyone’s called him that. The word comes to him like an old coat; dusty and uncomfortably suffocating, but somehow familiar. Somehow, Sunoo knows what to do with that. “You’ll have to decide for yourself.” He tells Jaeyun. 

“Right, I’m so excited to watch the show!” The boy nods effusively. “I’ll definitely be cheering for you.” 

Sunoo hums in disagreement, shaking his arm to let it free of Jaeyun’s hold as he leans closer to the mirror. His hand trembles for a second as he reaches for the eyeliner, waterproof, this time. “I don’t think Sunghoon would like that very much.” 

“Why not?” The boy asks, genuine curiosity coating his voice as he squints, trying to take a closer look at his rusty makeup skills. “I can cheer for both of you.” 

Sunoo has a feeling this boy would cheer for the damn zamboni if he could. He can’t help the snort that comes out of him, all undignified and ugly. “You don’t skate.” He says. It’s not a question, moreso a remark. 

“I do!” Jaeyun chirps again. It makes Sunoo frown. “Well, not like this.” The boy clarifies, pointing at the makeup scattered on the vanity. “I play hockey.” He says. “Back home, in the school team.” 

“Ah.” He nods. Sunoo hates himself for it, but he can’t help the terrible feeling that comes with those words. He can’t stop the idea that maybe hockey is just right, just enough. It’s still ice, because Sunghoon would never survive without it, but a helmet and a stick are probably much less threatening to him than a sparkly costume worn by another skater. By Sunoo, anyways. Maybe Jaeyun doesn’t need to worry about anything after all. “Makes sense.” 

“Mm.” The boy smiles again. “What do you mean? Do I look like a hockey player?” 

He shakes his head, a little easy smile settling on his mouth before he can stop it. “I mean that-” 

“Sunoo.” His mother’s voice startles him, making his head turn fast, so much so that he almost misses the surprised gasp Jaeyun lets out. “Don’t stall.” 

“I’m not.” He mutters. “I’m getting ready.” 

“You’re chatting away like we have all the time in the world.” 

He doesn’t know why it’s embarrassing. He doesn’t owe Jaeyun any kind of explanation. He doesn’t owe him anything, for that matter, not even his time. But it is. “Mom, there’s still a long time before I have to be out.” 

“So spend it practicing.” She murmurs serenely, but Sunoo has heard enough commands in his life to recognize the steam hiding behind her calm demeanor. “God knows you could use a rehearsal.” 

“Sorry.” He hears Jaeyun clear his throat next to him. “Am I bothering you?” 

No. Sunoo wants to say, despite the complicated mix of emotions the mere sight of the boy had awoken inside him. No, because Jaeyun has done nothing wrong. No, because he speaks like words don’t have a price, because maybe something will slip from his mouth, something that Sunoo would like to hear despite never being able to admit it to anyone. Something that has to do with Sunghoon, perhaps. No, because in spite of himself, maybe it’s nice to have someone in this place who won’t tiptoe around him like he’s venom, like he’s a bad omen.

“Yes.” His mother answers in his place. “Sunoo is not here to play, he has work to do.” 

There’s no point in arguing against it, really. He is here to work. Distractions have proven themselves to be sneaky enough to make it past Sunoo’s reasoning, enough to make him come tumbling down when he least expects it. In the end, it doesn’t matter how much he wants to keep letting Jaeyun wear his ear off about skating, or Park Sunghoon, or hockey; Sunoo has had enough experiences with falling to understand, deep down, that his mother is right. 

All of that comes with pain, but it’s a different kind; the kind that makes him keep breathing despite the feeling of drowning, the kind that makes him keep his head high in anticipation or self defense, the one that hurts him in just the right ways to push him up. But Sunoo should know better now. Pain is pain, and he should be used to it no matter what shape it takes. If it’s a twisted ankle, or the memory of Park Sunghoon’s existence… That’s all but irrelevant.

He looks away then, focusing on covering his nose with powder as he hears Jaeyun’s steps moving to the entrance of the room. Still, Sunoo can’t help but wonder if he’ll talk to Sunghoon about this, if they’ll talk about him. 

༄˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Interviews are never really fun. Not anymore. But Sunoo knows just the right angles, the right smiles, the right way to make his eyes bigger or smaller depending on whatever it is that they throw at him, he’s had plenty of practice for that. Unfortunately, he’s had considerably less practice with the way he should act when the microphone is shoved in his face demanding answers he can only wish he had. “Have you and Park Sunghoon made up yet?” The woman asks him, and it comes so out of the blue, so suddenly, that he feels himself deflate for a fraction of a second as the words find him unprepared. 

He swallows, buying himself some time as he tilts his head with a smile covering his mouth. It reminds him of Jaeyun earlier. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” He answers softly, hoping and praying that maybe the old deer in headlights act will get him through this. It used to come to him so naturally. “There is nothing happening between Park Sunghoon and I.”

But the woman chuckles, throwing a quick look at the camera man that Sunoo has no time to decipher. “Don’t be like this, Sunoo.” She coos. “All eyes are on you two this season.” He giggles in response, his vision turning blurry for a moment from how hard he’s trying to make it all look natural. 

“There are many talented skaters competing this season.” He says, still smiling. “Everyone’s eyes should be on the competition!”

The woman hums, a knowing smile turning bigger by the second. “But you and I know it’s not all about skating, right?” He feels cornered, the bench they’re sitting on suddenly too small, the white lights on the ceiling suddenly too bright, the jacket he wears suddenly too tight, and the memories of that day… They shoot at him like bullets. “The public loves a good show.” It’s not like Sunoo doesn’t know that. He had learned it the hard way. “So, what can you tell us about Park Sunghoon?” 

His throat hurts from the way the words claw at it, trying to make their way out. “Park Sunghoon.” Sunoo resumes with a steady voice, his face devoid of anything they could use against him, like the mention of his name doesn’t bring a painful, crushing pressure to his chest. “Of course it’s an honor to skate in the same place again. As everyone knows, we trained together for a really long time, so it’s always a pleasure to see him.” 

“How sweet of you.” The woman smiles. “Have you guys talked yet?” 

“No.” Sunoo sighs a smile. And this time, he doesn’t have to lie. “We haven’t had the chance to meet.”

The reporter frowns, like she’s trying to see right through him. “Do you miss him? You’ve been away for a year.” 

“You know, I…” Sunoo glances to the side, checking for his coach, or his mother, or anyone who might be available to intervene and make this stop, but they stare back at him like they’re waiting for him to continue. He half wonders if maybe Sunghoon’s mother sent this reporter, if maybe she had provided the questions herself. “I missed being on ice so much! Being absent for one season is more than enough! I couldn’t wait to come back here and skate for everyone, so I’m very glad to be back, and I hope I can deliver a good performance tonight.” 

The woman tilts her head forward, letting her smile fade away. “Lovely as always, Sunoo.” He lets himself breathe as a nod finds his head in an almost automatic motion. “Thank you for your time.” 

Goodbyes are nothing extraordinary. He bows when he has to, he smiles wider as the camera passes by, he slumps where he sits for a second before straightening back up as his mother stands in front of him. “What were those questions?” She bites. “Did you have any idea she would talk about that kid?” The woman is fuming, he knows. She can barely hold herself together; her arms tightly crossed on her chest, her face turning a shade darker in a reddish tint.

“Of course not mom…” He sighs. “I thought the interview guidelines had been updated?” 

“Apparently not.” She murmurs, the icy silence enough to make him stay still. 

“Why didn’t you stop her?” He whispers. “I thought you’d step in.” 

His mother scoffs, fixing her hair loosely. “And give them something obvious to use against us?” Her head shakes stiffly, eyes squinted like she’s considering something. “All press is good press.” 

But that’s not really true. He knows better, he thinks she should too. Maybe that’s only a reality when you’re not the one directly under the spotlight. 

“Go back to the dressing room.” His mother says, holding on to her purse with a firm grip. “I’m gonna go see Mr. Yang, I’d like to have a talk.” What’s Mr. Yang gonna do? He wants to ask. He doesn’t, because the woman is an unmovable force, and Sunoo is exhausted from getting on her bad side. “Don’t go out on your own.” She tells him. “Don’t talk to anyone, just-” 

“I won’t.” He smiles at her reassuringly. “I know the drill, mom. No going out alone, no talking, no eating.” 

She nods. “And take your vitamins. Keep your skates with you” 

“Yes, mom.” 

In all honesty, he knows he’s not missing much. Walking down these hallways he’s known for years, bearing the whispers thrown at him from people he’s shared the ice with for over half his life feels like the thorns of a rose tapping on his skin. Sunoo has had enough of roses. He keeps his posture steady, eyes set in front of him like he’s made of steel. 

His steps feel heavy on the ground beneath him, but not even the stubborn weighty facade he forces on himself is enough to prepare him for what comes next. 

Park Sunghoon is still the same; tall and long, and infuriatingly beautiful. His hair has grown longer since the last time Sunoo saw him, but it remains dark and silky, even when styled to keep it away from his face. His arms are crossed as he leans on the door frame of Sunoo’s dressing room, the characteristic unbothered air around him making him look as untouchable as always. His eyes, dark and deep, come up to meet him, and Sunoo’s breath stutters shamefully. He can feel a hole throbbing in his chest, aching in its emptiness at the sight. Sunghoon’s a little taller now, if only a couple of centimeters. He hates the way his head needs to tip up to look him in the eyes. So he doesn’t; instead, he keeps his eyes fixed on the wall, trying his best to ignore the rapid, punishing thumping of his heart. 

Neither of them speak at first, but Sunoo can feel the other’s gaze on him like a ghost, tracing his face in a way that’s too intimate to withstand, mapping his features like he still has that right. There is a small sigh, almost imperceptible at first, and then a longer one, a breathy laugh that echoes inside the memories engraved in his brain. A laugh he had heard thousands of times before. “What’s so funny?” He asks finally, letting his eyes roughly brush over Sunghoon. 

He finds the boy smirking. Sunghoon runs the tip of his tongue through his bottom lip as his eyes take another good look at Sunoo. “You’re blond.” Sunghoon says simply. 

“Really?” Sunoo’s eyebrows go up, an unimpressed expression all over his face. “I hadn’t noticed.” 

The boy shrugs calmly. “Can’t I point it out? You were brunette the last time I saw you.” 

“Sorry.” Sunoo sighs. “I’m just not in the mood for bad small talk.” 

“What are you in the mood for, then?” 

“I’m in the mood to stop seeing your face.” 

“Oh.” Sunghoon frowns, jokingly holding his chest like something is hurting him there. “Sunshine.” He says, and Sunoo flinches like he’s been struck by lightning. “I’m just happy to see you again.”

“Okay.” He murmurs. “You’ve seen me now. Go back to your dressing room.”

“Why?” Sunghoon’s voice is nonchalant, but it’s also empty in a way Sunoo is completely unfamiliar with. “Is mommy gonna get mad to see me here?” 

“Do you think you’re being funny right now?” He asks back, entirely uninterested in the poor attempt at humour. “I’m not playing with you, Sunghoon.” 

“I’m not playing either.” The boy sighs. “Can’t we have an amicable moment?” 

“Right.” Sunoo scoffs. “Because the last time we did that, it went tremendously well. Move.” He grunts, trying to get past Sunghoon to make it inside the safety of his dressing room. But Sunghoon is big and sturdy, and he moves right on time to block Sunoo’s way. 

“I wanted some company.” The boy tries again, tilting his head down to stare into Sunoo’s eyes. “Is that wrong?” 

“Company.” He repeats, running back to the memory of a talkative, overly friendly someone. “You do have company. If you want someone there so badly, why don’t you go back to your little lap dog?” 

The boy’s face deflates lightly, shrinking into an expression Sunoo would have died to kiss better some time ago. “Lap dog?” Sunghoon echoes. “You met Jaeyun.”

“Mm.” His feigned disinterest had never been the best, but practice makes perfect, they say, and Sunoo’s had plenty of time recently. “Didn’t care about his name much.” 

“I don’t believe you.” Sunghoon tells him simply. It makes his face slip into something he’s scared he won’t be able to control. 

“And why is that?” 

“Because that’s cruel.” The boy answers, eyes once again trailing over his face. “And you were never cruel, Sunoo.” 

“Because you know me so well.” 

“I do.” The words make him swallow thickly, inhaling slow and deep to keep himself grounded. “Of course I do.” 

“You don’t.” Lying was never Sunoo’s strength, but things change, just like people do. Sunghoon was once his strength, after all. “You know nothing about me, just like I know nothing about you. And I think it’s time to admit we’re better off as strangers.” 

“Is that what we are?” Sunghoon mutters. “Strangers?” 

“What else would we be, Sunghoon?” 

Something sick and rotten inside of him fantasizes about what it would be like if Sunghoon answered something he shouldn’t. If he said we’re the opposite of that, if maybe he said I’m too much of you, just like you’re too much of me to ever be meaningless to each other. Sunoo would crumble. Worse than that, after everything that happened, Sunoo isn’t sure he’d even be able to believe it. 

Not being able to trust Park Sunghoon, after giving him all his secrets, all his faith, all his dreams and hopes… That might be the worst heartbreak. A pain so bad, that he almost can’t believe it. He doesn’t answer, and Sunoo takes it as a cue to move forward. 

“It looks good on you.” Sunghoon mutters, playful smirk gone without a trace now. One of his hands goes up, as if to mindlessly take a blond lock in between his fingers, but the boy wakes up from the daze right on time, leaving his hand hanging awkwardly between them. “You look beautiful.” 

He nods, because his brain is not fast enough at the moment to ensure he won’t stutter like an idiot in front of Sunghoon. Sunoo hums to acknowledge the words, sneaking inside the room as soon as he has the chance. He goes to close the door, but before he can lock himself inside, he hears the other’s voice one more time; annoyingly, devastatingly real. “The rink is sunny tonight.” 

His heart goes to his feet in free fall. His throat feels tight with the beginning of a lump, it hurts when he tries to swallow it. Sunoo forces himself to step away from the door, because he knows that if he stays close to it, his ears will look for any trace of Sunghoon he can hold on to, as if detached from his own body. But holding on to Park Sunghoon is the same as holding on to a thorny rose, and Sunoo’s hands have proven to heal painfully slow. 

It is a little funny, he thinks. Sunoo had wanted blond hair for years, but now that he has it, it looks wrong in the mirror. Pretty in all the wrong ways, for all the ugliest reasons. It’ll make you look softer, his mother had said. The public will move on faster if they think you’re cuter than before. But she had also said something else, something Sunoo hadn’t been able to forget. Maybe if you’re blond, people will finally stop comparing you to that brat. 

But maybe the comparison was inevitable, when he and Sunghoon were attached at the hip, when they exchanged clothes, when their skating styles started intertwining like branches on a tree. Maybe it was never about comparison. Perhaps it was always just about him and Sunghoon. 

Chapter Text

[Six]

When he meets Park Sunghoon for the first time, the sky threatens to fall on them. Thick, grey clouds covering everything above with a rumbling sound that makes Sunoo hold on to his seatbelt tightly. 

The neighbourhood is nothing thrilling. Sunoo sees it fleetingly from the window when his mother drives past it. But it is Seoul. The woman had been tirelessly rambling on and on about the city for months. Sunoo thinks that there was nothing wrong with their old house, back where the sun could reach them and the air felt warmer. But Sunoo is six, and his mother’s word weighs heavier than the skates clinging to his feet when he’s on ice. 

Unwanted goosebumps bloom on his skin, making a small shiver settle on his body. “I’m so cold.”

“Control it, honey.” His mother hums. “Are you gonna be shaking like a little leaf when we get to the ice rink? What are the other skaters gonna think?”

The thought makes him giggle. “Maybe they’ll think I’m cute.” He says. Back home, all the neighbours would call him that anyways. 

“Or maybe they’ll think you’re weak.” She answers promptly. “Seoul kids are vicious, Sunoo.”

“What does that mean?” He squints, his head tilting to the side as he looks for an explanation in his mother, but the woman simply shakes her head once, and then twice, her eyes locked on the concrete road ahead of them. “It means they won’t hesitate to throw you under the bus as soon as they get the chance.” 

“Even if we’re friends?” Sunoo whispers, voice turning quiet inside the car, because the idea of being thrown under a bus is actually pretty scary. 

She sighs deeply, taking her time to muster an answer as she parks the car. “Kim Sunoo.” His mother calls. “Listen to me, and listen well.” Her fingers are frosty on his cheeks. “We are not here to make friends. You are here to skate, and you are here to win.” It works against the cold somehow, the silence around them makes him feel like he’s melting under his mother’s touch, hints of heat prickling on his face. “No son of mine is a loser, and I won’t let you embarrass us after all the effort I’ve put on you. Understood?” 

His head moves up and down, an attempt at a nod. “I’m not a loser. I’m a good skater, mom.” 

“Not as good as them.” 

The woman’s words don’t register immediately, not until Sunoo walks into the ice rink for the first time. A shiny floor and a high ceiling, and loud echoes bouncing from wall to wall that make him finally realize Seoul is a giant, and Sunoo is… Well, as his mother had said, a little leaf. Suddenly it’s hard to walk, but the hand on his shoulder pushes him forward until he can see the huge layer of pristine ice laying there, ready for the taking. 

Sunoo was never much of a taker, really. Simple, mom would call him sometimes; frustrated eyes and a gritted voice that he could just never understand. Wasn’t simple a good thing? Why would his mother want something complicated? 

“Get on the ice and start stretching.” She tells him. “I’m going to the office, to make sure everything’s taken care of.” 

“But I don’t know anyone.” He whines, because now that he’s here, the sight is terrifying. 

“You know your warm up routine.” The woman answers. “That’s all you need right now.” 

But the ice here is different; smooth, glossy and even in a way he’s never felt under his skates. His balance falters, making his cheeks heat up because he knows eyes are on him; he can feel them, from the kids moving around as if they know the rink like the back of their hands, and their parents and coaches too, occupying the seats surrounding the ice. Sunoo wonders if maybe this is what his mother was talking about earlier. Vicious seems like a pretty good word to use now. 

Vicious seems like a good word to use when Sunoo’s back meets the ice the way he’d forgotten skating can be; rough and cold, and painful. A small gasp escapes his lips in surprise before opening his eyes to catch the blinding bright light adorning the ceiling. And then, a boy. 

Sunoo sees the dark eyes first; big and deep staring down at him as if studying an anomaly. His thick eyebrows draw together lightly, frowning in silence. “Ouch.” Sunoo whimpers, feeling the back of his head humid where it touches the ice. 

“You were in the way.” The kid tells him plainly. “Don’t do that, it’s dangerous.” 

“You pushed me!” Sunoo whines. 

“Mhm. Because you were in my way. Don’t you know only skaters can be here?” 

“I am a skater!” Sunoo chirps. “I’ve been skating since I was three. I’m just new here.”

“If you’re a skater, then why are you still on the floor?” 

“Because!” Sunoo’s voice comes out way higher than he intended. “I was waiting for you to help me.” It feels a little embarrassing, watching the way the kid hosts complete surprise in his face, like he’s just heard the dumbest thing he could think of. 

“You want my help.” He repeats, leaning down slightly, as if to take a closer look at Sunoo. The kid’s eyes move cautiously, curiously over his face, searching for answers Sunoo himself doesn’t have. In the end, he does stretch his arm out, offering one of his gloved hands. “Don’t do that anymore. If you stand in the middle of the rink shaking like bambi, someone will push you again.” His tongue clicks. Sunoo watches in surprise, because he’s never seen a kid talk so much like an adult. “I can’t always help you.”

“Yes, you can.” Sunoo rolls his eyes, because it feels so obvious to him. “I can just call for you if I need help.” 

“You don’t even know my name.” The kid huffs, watching with renewed interest as Sunoo fixes his clothes after regaining his footing. “And even if you did, I don’t have to help you just because you call for me. I’m busy.”

“Well, you helped me just now, no?” Sunoo asks him with a light smile now that he can see the boy eye to eye. “I think if I called for you, you’d come.” 

“I won’t tell you my name, then.” The boy sighs. “If you’re a good skater, you won’t need help. That’s what my mom says.” 

“Everyone needs help.” He complains. 

“Maybe you do, because you can’t even stand on the ice.” 

“Hey!” Sunoo frowns, physically feeling his voice loosening up. “I can stand on the ice just fine! But I’d never skated around more people, you surprised me.” 

“What do you mean?” The kid tilts his head, a gentle furrow bringing his eyebrows together. “Did you go to a private ice rink before?” 

He laughs, shaking his head joyfully at the kid’s interested expression. “No!” In truth, Sunoo didn’t know that was even a possibility. “Back home I used to skate on a pond!”

He hears giggles around them, and only then does Sunoo realize their conversation is not exactly private. It doesn’t feel quite right, there’s something in the sound of those laughs that makes him want to shrink into himself. What’s so wrong about skating on a pond anyways? That’s where Sunoo had learned everything. 

But the kid in front of him doesn’t laugh. In fact, his expression drops for a second, like he’s considering and then reconsidering his words. “Are you making a joke?” He deadpans.

“No.” Sunoo feels himself pouting, conscious of the way his voice turns smaller. “There’s a pond in the back of my house and it freezes in winter.” He murmurs. “So I use it to skate.” 

“So you only skate in winter?” 

“Yes! As soon as the water turns into ice.” 

“You're supposed to train daily.” The kid reproaches. “If not, you get rusty.” And then he clicks his tongue. “Why not an ice rink?” 

“Because there’s none.” It’s a simple enough answer, so he’s not sure why this kid seems to have such a hard time understanding.

“A pond.” The boy says. Sunoo half wants to ask him if he must repeat everything he hears. “I don’t think you belong here.”

“Why?” He asks, suddenly feeling the rapid thumping of his heart tickling his throat. His hands go cold, and his mother’s voice comes back to him. 

“Look at you.” The kid shrugs. 

But Sunoo does, and when he takes in the sight there’s nothing that screams wrong. Maybe it’s the pink jacket he wears, because it’s old and worn out, and also his mother’s, from when she used to skate as a child. It’s different from the black one adorning the kid’s frame; not as tight, not as sharp, definitely not new. Or maybe it’s his baby cheeks… Mom had mentioned something about them being too chubby for an athlete before. “What about me?”

The boy in front of him shakes his head, as if this whole thing was as good as meaningless. “You just don’t.” He says.

Belong here, that is. 

Then, Sunoo feels it. Past his cold hands, and sore butt from the fall, beyond his unsure voice and flimsy clothes, there is a little burning flame; small enough to fit inside his chest, big enough to let the air reach his lungs, to make his stance sturdy and poised. It’s the same kind of flame he’d feel skating, despite doing it on a little pond. So when he speaks again, he does so with an even, clear voice. “My name is Kim Sunoo.” He says. “I’m a skater, and I belong here, because a skater belongs on the ice.” 

The kid remains silent for what feels like hours, but Sunoo does not falter, meeting the dark pair of eyes that run through him mindfully, once again, as if he’s looking at something mystical. He thinks the boy definitely won’t answer, once he starts straying away to continue his practice like Sunoo was nothing but a little delay in his day. But then he stops, sudden and unexpected, stopping with a raspy scraping on the ice. “My name is Park Sunghoon.”

༄˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

They used to call him the darling of the cameras. Before everything went down, before the fall, before the rage and the ugly tears no one was ever supposed to see on his face; back when the smile on his face was a permanent, delicate thing, not a heavy weight that cracks in hideous lines. They still might, but in all honesty, Sunoo’s too scared to check. The tabloids have been devoid of him for months now, but there is a pinch there that can never quite leave him. Still, the reporters are used to look for him, because they know Sunoo never turns down an interview. Too kind, too sweet, too perfect to do so. 

Thus, he doesn’t know why it surprises him when they come knocking on his door for another talk in front of the camera. “Kim Sunoo! The Winter Fairy!” The man greets excitedly, tapping him on the shoulder when he bows. “We have some new skaters this season. Of course they all look up to you.” He says, but Sunoo can’t help but wonder if he had heard the whispers in the hallways, if maybe this reporter had had a hand in all those terrible things said about him in the media. “Why don’t you give them some tips that might help them in the competition?”

“Well, I’m sure it’s nothing they don’t already know.” He grins. “Take care of yourselves, rest well before, enjoy your performance.” Sunoo doesn’t believe a single thing he says. He barely knows how he is holding up right now. “Trust yourselves too.” 

“And if they fall?” The man asks, a smile plastered on his mouth, too big for Sunoo to feel comfortable. “Surely you must have advice on that too.” 

He stops the flinch that jumps on his skin before the camera can catch it. “Well, that can happen, of course.” That has happened. “Mistakes will always be there, but you can always get up.” He says. “Don’t be afraid to start again.” But his eyes flutter when he looks away, willing himself to stay here and not in the past. Intentions, after all, are always easier than actions. 

“Alright, there you have it, everyone!” The man yelps joyfully. “Kim Sunoo! Thank you. Stunning as always.” Sunoo doesn’t know if it’s meant to hurt him or not, but really, there’s hardly any difference at all. “You can barely see the scar.” The reporter tells him carelessly, loosely pointing at his cheek. The cut is healed, and his skin is covered in makeup, but suddenly it starts hurting, like the blood manages to make it past the closed tissue, running down his face again. He wonders if Sunghoon is watching, if the scar is obvious to him. Would it really matter?

He sighs a smile, matching the reporter’s bow as they say their goodbyes. “Thank you.” 

༄˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

[Eighteen]

It’s always obvious when Sunghoon steps on the ice. He makes a sound unlike anything else. It’s sharp and decisive, but it’s also soft in a peculiar way, similar to how he kisses: like he knows exactly the right ways to glide, not so much slicing the ice, but rather caressing it. Classy. Romantic, he guesses. Everything about Sunghoon is romantic. The familiar noise makes him smile on the low, but Sunoo keeps his eyes on the phone resting on his crossed legs where he sits, letting himself revel in the anticipation of his boyfriend’s approach. Sunoo wonders where the first kiss will land. 

Sprinkles of ice land on his lap when Sunghoon stops in front of him, a little pant coming in an exhale that tells him the boy had rushed here. “You’re late.” He mutters, still looking down to hide the rapidly growing grin.

Sunghoon falls to his knees before him, a sigh leaving him before his voice comes out. “I’m sorry.” The boy puffs. “Baby, I’m sorry.” 

“Mm.” 

“You’re not gonna look at me?” He asks him, and Sunoo can tell he’s tilting his head to try and look into his eyes. His lips purse to stop a giggle. Sulking has proven itself to be the best way to get Sunghoon right where he wants him. 

“No.” He grunts. “I’m mad at you.”

“Is that so?” Sunghoon hums, his smile evident in his voice. “You’re not gonna let me see your pretty face?” 

“Nope.” He mocks. “And don’t stay on your knees! You know I hate it when you do that.” Sunoo’s frown clouds his vision. “You can get hurt.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen.” The boy chuckles. “I know my blades.” 

“Park Sunghoon!” 

“Fine.” His boyfriend laughs quietly. “You don’t want me on my knees.” And then, he’s slowly crawling closer and closer to Sunoo; long arms inching towards him like a cat until he’s pushing at his body. He can’t quiet his excitement anymore once Sunghoon manages to lay him down, back pressed to the cold ice as the boy’s big frame swallows him whole, both his arms on either side of Sunoo’s head until all he can see is Sunghoon’s satisfied expression staring at him with that familiar glint of hunger in his eyes; the one he only really has when he’s looking at Sunoo. “Is this better?” He asks in a murmur, his voice shrinking to fit in the intimacy they’ve created for themselves. 

“Better.” He nods, letting his arms wrap around Sunghoon’s nape to bring him closer. “Hyung, you’re so mean to me…” 

“Why is that?” Sunghoon’s breath crashes on his lips like a caress, his lips pulling into a smirk as his eyes travel from Sunoo’s eyes to his tentatively ajar mouth. “Hm, sunshine?” 

He feels like blushing, diverting his gaze to the side when the sight becomes too much. “I waited so long for you… I was dying to see you.” 

Sunghoon purrs lowly, running the tip of his tongue through his bottom lip. “Me too.” He whispers. “I missed you so much.”

“I don’t believe you.” Sunoo means to say as a joke, but he’s feeling more and more breathless by the second, so his words come out scattered and shaky. In any case, Sunghoon knows him like the back of his hand, and the smitten grin that plasters on his face tells Sunoo that he knows exactly what he’s feeling, exactly what he wants.

“No?” The boy plays along. “What should I do?” He sighs. “How can I make it up to you?” Sunghoon’s lips ghost over his, not quite giving in to the touch. He feels himself tremble in anticipation, tilting his head up to try and get what’s been promised, but his boyfriend stifles a chuckle, letting his face fall down and away from Sunoo’s face until he’s nosing at his neck.

“Your heart is beating so fast, sweetheart.” He murmurs on top of his skin, right under Sunoo’s jaw. He feels his pulse quickening at the mercy of the other’s lips. “You really wanted to see me that bad?” 

“Yes.” Sunoo whispers, a meek hint of his voice leaving his mouth like a worn out exhale as Sunghoon continues peppering his neck with kisses; pristine and soft, but kisses nonetheless. They imprint on him like promises, like apologies for the distance. His breathing stammers, his arms tighten their grip on Sunghoon when he goes lower, letting his mouth reach Sunoo’s collarbones like they’d been searching for them all along. “Wait.” He mumbles, tapping on his boyfriend’s shoulders when he opens his mouth just enough to let his teeth nibble on the thin layer of skin. “Not there.” He trembles, fighting the urge to arch away from the ice to offer his body up to Sunghoon; his collarbones and neck, and whatever else he might want to take. “Don’t leave marks there.”

Sunghoon hums, sending vibrations through his body in the process. “But they look so pretty on you.” 

“Mom’s gonna kill me if she sees.” He whines, feeling his eyes closing beyond his control. That tends to happen a lot when he’s with Sunghoon, losing the ability to control himself. 

To his surprise, Sunghoon actually stops, lifting his head up to stare into his eyes again. “Then I’m just gonna have to leave them where she won’t find them.”

Sunoo lets himself remember all those other times, when his thighs and stomach, and hips had been covered in reddish, tender marks in the form of Sunghoon; the thrill of knowing they were there for no one’s eyes but their own, the rush of knowing that, under all those layers of clothes, laid the undeniable proof of belonging to Sunghoon the same way he belonged to Sunoo. He whines in satisfaction as Sunghoon’s soft lips finally decide to stop teasing, crashing against his own with barely restrained desire that translates to sucking and licking, and biting until Sunoo feels like he’s suffocating. Even then, he doesn’t break the kiss; instead, he runs his fingers through the boy’s silky hair, pulling gently at the strands when a nibble comes too hard, when his knee ventures too close to Sunoo’s thigh. “Yes.” He pants, want written all over his face as he breathes in Sunghoon’s air, all tainted with heavy desire and unbearable need. “But not here.” 

“But we’re all alone.” The boy grunts. 

“Mhm. But just to make sure.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes close as he lets his forehead crash against Sunoo’s. He nods softly, taking a few seconds there before moving again, leaving a soft peck on Sunoo’s lips. “Okay, not here.” 

His hand moves from the back of Sunghoon’s neck to the top of his head, taking his time to fix the untamed strands of hair that he himself had messed up. The boy inhales deeply, leaning his head against Sunoo’s hand like a kitten seeking affection, turning his face until his lips can reach Sunoo’s wrist, placing a long, unhurried kiss there. “I heard something from mom.” Sunghoon tells him silently, the way he does when he wants something to be a secret. “About you and the judges.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise. “That’s never really good news, is it?” 

Sunghoon huffs. “They’re miserable old hags, you know that.” Of course he does. Everyone who’s ever been on ice does, but when it comes to Sunoo it’s… different. Harsher. “But I figured out a way to keep them off your back for a little while.”  

“What is that?” He asks halfheartedly. In truth, Sunoo doesn’t think there’s anything he could do to actually keep them off his back. 

“They don’t like it when your head touches the ice.” 

“They don’t like it when I do anything.” 

“Baby.” Sunghoon mutters, his tone drowning in a soft endearment that tries to comfort him. “That’s not true.” 

They know it is. They want me to be you, Sunoo wants to say. That, they know, is true, they just never mention it. 

“I like touching the ice.” He contemplates. “You don’t.” 

“Because it’s dangerous.” Sunghoon scrunches his nose. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” He leans down again, kissing Sunoo’s forehead like that will keep him safe. “And I don’t want them to keep you in second place forever over petty things.”

“I’m not second because of petty things.” Sunoo smiles. “I’m second because you’re first.” 

The boy's eyes roll, but he chuckles. “Don’t give me this.” 

“It’s true.” Sunoo hums softly. “My boyfriend is the best skater in the world.” 

“God, Sunshine.” Sunghoon sighs. He looks enamoured, captivated by the boy under him like he’s looking at him for the first time. “You can’t do this to me.” 

“Do what?” 

“This.” He answers, nosing at Sunoo’s cheek. “Flustering me until I lose my mind. Distracting me until I forget what I was trying to say.” Sunghoon shakes his head. “I’m not gonna forget this, I want you to do well.” 

“So you don’t want me to touch the ice.” 

“I don’t.” Sunghoon agrees. “I want you to get first, and I want you to make them eat their words.” 

“Well, I don’t know how to do that.” He shrugs. “It’s just my style.” 

“I tried teaching you before.” His boyfriend recalls. “Years ago.” 

“Yes, but that’s easy for you.” Sunoo pouts at him. “That’s your style, and you’re perfect.” 

“Not perfect.” The boy laughs. “Not like you.” 

Sunoo knows it’s not all about skating when they talk to each other like this, but he still answers. “Well, I’ve never seen you have flaws, like touching the ice with your head.” 

“That’s not a flaw.” He differs. “It’s beautiful, and vulnerable, and precious.” Sunghoon pauses for a second. “It’s so you.” 

“That’s because you love me.” 

“Yes.” His boyfriend agrees. “But it’s also because I believe it’s true.” 

“Maybe vulnerable is not a great thing to be in front of the judges.” 

“Maybe not.” Sunghoon concedes, dragging a fraction of his finger through Sunoo’s cheek. 

“You’d never do that.” He reasons inside the closeness. 

The boy holding himself on top of Sunoo mutters, softly, contemplatively. “My head on the ice.” Vulnerable, open, raw. “Only for one person.” He concludes, finally removing himself from his previous position to lay down next to him; careless and limp, and unguarded in a way no one else has the privilege of seeing him. Beautiful. 

Sunghoon turns his head to the side, facing Sunoo eye to eye with blown out pupils and a timid pull on his lips that reads like the purest, daintiest form of love. 

Sunoo is breathless, watching as Sunghoon’s dark, smooth locks become damp from crashing against the ice.