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

Chapter 53: Rotations

"Anchor here," Han murmured. "You tilt too soon." JL's skin burned under the touch. He didn't move.

"Try again," Han said, stepping away like he hadn't just pressed every nerve in JL's spine.

JL exhaled, counted to three, and sprinted.

Wednesday: Recovery Stretch (Steven)

The training mat was quiet that afternoon, sunlight pouring in at an angle that painted stripes across the floor. Most of the team had cleared out, and only the sound of distant footsteps and a humming vending machine filled the space.

JL was rubbing at the back of his thigh when Steven walked over, a water bottle in one hand, towel slung around his neck.

"You're limping," Steven said, crouching beside him.

"I'm not."

"You are."

JL raised an eyebrow but didn't argue when Steven patted the mat. "Lie down. Let me check it."

JL hesitated. Then did. His back hit the mat and Steven was beside him, warm and steady. His hands were practiced -- one bracing JL's leg at the knee, the other pressing gently along the hamstring, slow and methodical.

"There?" Steven asked when JL twitched.

JL nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. "It's tight."

"I can feel that. You need to breathe into it."

JL wanted to say I'm trying, but breathing around Steven's hands on him was proving difficult. Especially when his fingers moved up, under the edge of his shorts -- not far, just enough to get a better angle.

Just enough to make JL's brain scatter.

Steven wasn't trying to be seductive. He was just there. Steady and strong and impossibly close. And JL -- God, JL was overheating.

He stared at the ceiling, face flushed, and tried to pretend this was normal. That Steven's touch wasn't sending lightning up his spine. That he wasn't already thinking about how his legs had almost shaken when Steven's thumb had pressed just there.

Steven finished the stretch, wiped his hands on the towel, and offered JL the water bottle.JL took it. Grateful. And still on fire. 

God, he had the whole rest of the week to get through. 

Thursday: 5:04 AM. 

JL had started waking before his alarm.

It wasn't even willpower anymore -- more like a clock wired into his blood. The kind that didn't beep but just whispered: he'll be there again.

By the time he zipped his jacket and slid his key into the door, the street outside was barely beginning to lighten. The sky was a dull graphite, not quite dawn, not quite night, and the cold settled in the air like something waiting to be spoken.

The car was already there. Same model. Same spot. Engine running low, headlights off, like it had been waiting its whole life to collect him.

JL walked slowly, gym bag slung over one shoulder, wondering again if today would be the day he said something. Or the day Han would.

But Han didn't move when he opened the passenger door. Just glanced over once -- briefly -- and tilted his chin.

JL slid into the seat and pulled the door shut behind him. The warmth inside was immediate, clean and heavy with the faintest trace of eucalyptus and leather. JL let his fingers rest on the fabric of his pants instead of fiddling with the heating vent.