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

Chapter 53: Rotations

It started with a whiteboard and a whistle.

Coach Yang's handwriting was so aggressively slanted it looked like it had been sprinting before the marker hit the board. JL squinted at his personal rotation schedule from across the training mats, towel still slung around his neck. Across the top, in aggressive block letters:

"SUPERMEET PREP. ROTATION SCHEDULE. NO COMPLAINING."

The list beneath his name looked like a love triangle disguised as a workout circuit.

Monday: Steven
Tuesday: Han
Wednesday: Steven
Thursday: Han
Friday: Coach's choice. (God help you.)

Nobody said anything at first.

Then Woongki, barefoot and wrapped in a towel like an ancient oracle, looked at JL's list and declared: "Welcome to Korea's hottest dating game: 'Who Will Break JL's Heart First?'"

Coach Yang threw a stress ball at his head.

JL groaned. But deep down, his stomach had already started flipping.

Monday : Resistance Bands (Steven)

The gym lights buzzed overhead, fluorescent and clinical, but there was still a kind of warmth to the space. The scent of liniment oil clung to the corners, familiar and weirdly comforting. Outside, the morning light was creeping over the track, throwing long shadows through the glass.

Steven was already waiting by the wall, looping a resistance band around the metal hook with practiced ease. His shirt clung to him in places JL refused to acknowledge, and his hair was slightly damp at the ends like he'd showered just before coming.

"Your hamstring's tight," Steven said, not unkindly. "Want to try a side extension set?"

JL nodded and took the band. He didn't say much. Mostly because speaking felt like inviting trouble.

Steven watched as JL positioned himself, one leg braced behind, the other anchored into the strap. It was a simple exercise, technically. But Steven's hand came to his lower back, gently correcting his posture, the way a coach would. The way a friend might. But it still lit something up behind JL's ribs.

"Don't lock your hip," Steven said, voice lower now. "Let it open with the movement."

JL swallowed. "Like this?"

Steven nodded, stepping back. "Exactly."

And yet, even when Steven was no longer touching him, JL still felt the warmth there. A ghost-pressure, like a handprint on skin.

Tuesday: Form Drills (Han)

JL had always relied on instinct. He could run on muscle memory alone, through rain or heat or exhaustion. But Han trained like a surgeon -- every movement deliberate, stripped down to its most functional parts.

They were at the second lane by 6 a.m., the track damp from a recent sweep. Han stood behind JL, arms folded, mouth pressed into that thoughtful line he wore like a badge. He said nothing for a full minute. Just watched. Observed. Measured him with those unreadable eyes.

Then, finally: "Your drive phase is sloppy. You lift too early."

"I've been working on that."

"Work harder."

JL's jaw clenched. He adjusted his stance. Han stepped forward. His hands landed at JL's hips, not hard, not hungry. Just confident. Settling there like he belonged. Like he'd always known where JL's center of gravity sat and how to control it.