Running to You | Park Han + JL + Steven | Haneulz + Stejay AU

Chapter 33: Things I Don't Say (Steven POV)

Steven wasn't stupid. He'd always been good at reading people -- on the field, in the weight room, even across a crowded team dinner. JL was different, sure, but not unreadable. Not if you were really looking.

And Steven had been looking. For weeks now.

He noticed the way JL tied his shoes double-knotted on the left, loose on the right. How he mouthed lyrics when he thought no one was watching. How he could go from half-asleep to razor-sharp when the topic turned to strategy. How he smiled without showing teeth when he was trying to be polite. How he laughed, real and unfiltered, only when Han was around.

That part stung the most.

Steven told himself it didn't matter. That it was fine. That being near JL was enough. That training together was enough. That maybe, eventually, JL would see him. Really see him. The way Steven saw him.

But then came the Regionals. The argument. The way JL had looked at Han after, even in the middle of being furious with him. And the way Han had looked back like the only thing he wanted in the world was for JL to understand him.

The way JL had folded into Steven's arms after. 

He had said nothing.

But he'd wanted to.

He wanted to say, I see you. All of you. Even the messy parts. And I still want to be the one beside you.

JL hadn't answered his last message. That was fine. Steven didn't always need a reply.

Some nights, Steven ran by himself just to burn the feelings out of his system. But it didn't work. He could bench until his arms shook, sprint until his lungs felt raw, and still -- JL was there. Every time. In every silence.

He'd catch glimpses -- JL leaning against the railing during cool-downs, eyes half-lidded and lost in thought. JL laughing with Shuaibo. JL not talking to Han.

Steven knew what that kind of silence meant. He just didn't know if he'd be the one JL drifted toward... or away from.

And if he was being honest?

He wanted JL to drift toward him.

God, he wanted that so badly it hurt.

But some part of him -- the part that had always gotten there first, always been the strongest, the steadiest, the one who caught the baton and ran with it -- that part was starting to wonder:

What if he was just the person JL leaned on...

Until he went running back to someone else?

* * * 

Later that week, after training.

Steven was sitting at the edge of the track, toweling off his arms when JL walked by. He thought he wouldn't stop. JL had been doing that lately -- moving fast, ducking out before things could get complicated.

But this time, he slowed. Not much. Just enough.

"You're getting faster," JL said, eyes still on the field.

Steven blinked. "You noticed?"

JL gave a small shrug, like it wasn't a big deal. But his voice was quieter now. "I notice everything."

It was such a JL thing to say -- soft, unassuming, and somehow completely disarming.

Steven swallowed. "You been okay?"

JL hesitated. "I'm managing."

They stood there in a pocket of silence.

Steven wanted to reach for his hand. Or his shoulder. Or say something brave.

But he didn't.

JL looked at him then -- really looked -- and for a second, Steven let himself believe it might happen. That JL might lean in, just slightly, just enough.

Instead, JL's expression flickered -- something unreadable -- and he stepped back.

"I'll see you at sprints," he said, then turned and jogged off toward the locker rooms.

Steven sat there, towel bunched in his hands, heart thudding too hard for how little had just happened.