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

Chapter 50: Things in Motion

The next morning, JL woke to a dull ache in his calves and a raw tightness in his chest.

He didn't say anything about the rooftop talk.

But it stayed with him -- in the way he glanced longer at Steven's hand when it brushed his during warm-ups, in the way his smile felt a little more real, less burdened. He was still confused. Still tangled. But something in him had started to face forward.

They were back at the track by midmorning, prepping for an exhibition run against one of the local Shanghai sports academies. Nothing too formal, just good PR. Clean uniforms. Flashy shoes. Cameras.

Coach Yang was mid-lecture about baton angles when JL slipped to the water station.

And stopped.

Han was there.

Not drinking. Just standing, tall, quiet, arms crossed loosely over his chest. His uniform jacket was unzipped. A sheen of sweat caught on the fine lines of his throat. He looked up when JL approached. Didn't smile. Didn't speak.

But he stepped aside.

And without a word, he handed JL a towel.

Not tossed. Not flung.

He placed it, gently, into JL's hand. Their fingers didn't touch. But JL felt the warmth anyway.

Han didn't look at him like he owned him this time. He looked at him like he owed him something.

And maybe that was new.

JL dried his face. Han stayed silent. Then, after a long pause, he said, barely audible over the noise of the team, "I watched your heat times last night."

JL blinked. "What?"

"You've been favoring your left foot too much off the start. Might be why your second phase is stalling."

It wasn't teasing. It wasn't controlling.

It was quiet, observant, and unasked for.

JL stared at him.

"You don't have to fix it," Han added, looking away. "Just thought you should know."

Then he turned and walked back to the warm-up line, falling into position behind Kyungho like it was nothing.

But JL didn't move for a long time.

Because it wasn't nothing.

It was the first time Han had given advice without expectation. Without agenda. Just... watched, cared, and offered.

And somehow, that did more than the whisper in the rain ever had.

JL's chest ached. This time, for a different reason.

Because maybe... just maybe... Han was changing.

And JL wasn't sure whether that terrified him... or gave him hope.

JL was lining up for sprint starts, fixing his blocks when he realized... one was loose. The back heel plate tilted awkwardly, the latch on its side bent from overuse. He reached to adjust it, frustration prickling.

Before he could move, Han dropped to a crouch beside him. JL froze.

Han didn't speak. Just pulled a spare pin from his own block case and slid it into place, tightening it with a small tool from his bag. Smooth, practiced, quiet.

JL stared.

Han's hands were steady. Callused from years of competition. There was something almost reverent in the way he treated the equipment, not rushing, not annoyed. Just there. Helping.

When he finished, he stood without a word and moved to the next lane.

JL's throat felt tight.

The next  moment came at the cool-down tent, after the run.

JL had pushed hard. Harder than necessary. Maybe to clear his head. Maybe to see if the ache could be outrun.

He stumbled slightly as he stepped off the track, adrenaline fading, a spike of pain licking up the back of his thigh. Not serious -- but enough.

Han appeared at his side so fast it startled him.

"Hamstring?" he asked, eyes scanning JL's leg.

"I'm fine."

"You're limping."

"It's nothing."

Han looked at him. Really looked. Then reached into his bag, pulled out a cold pack he hadn't even used himself, and handed it over. "Take it."

JL hesitated.

Han exhaled, voice low. "You don't have to forgive me for anything. But I won't stop taking care of you just because I used to be bad at it."

JL took the pack.

And didn't know what to say.

Han walked away again, not lingering, not watching for a reaction.