track team AU | love triangle | slice of life | slow burn | found family | comedy + longing + insane rizz
JL transferred to Korea's most elite sports university hoping for a fresh start. He didn't expect to be rooming beside the nation's top sprinte...
He turned, walked briskly into his room, and kicked the edge of his suitcase. Not enough to damage anything. Just enough to feel something.
"Stupid," he muttered, yanking open a drawer. "Dumb. Who says that. Who does that."
He paced once, then stopped. Pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.
"I was drunk. He knows I was drunk. It didn't count. It didn't -- "
He dropped face-first onto the bed and let out a muffled groan into the pillow.
* * *
It was late evening.
The club pulsed like it had its own heartbeat. Low bass that sank into bone, lights flashing too fast to hold on to, air thick with perfume and the kind of sweat that meant nothing good ever followed. It was the kind of place where conversations got lost, and bad decisions didn't wait until morning.
They technically weren't even supposed to be doing anything yet. The shoot wouldn't start until late afternoon the next day -- something about waiting for the right light, the right timing, the right high-profile guest to arrive. Which left them, for now, as a pack of restless athletes in a new country with too much energy and no curfew.
The team had come mostly for the story. Juwon wanted dance content, Woongki needed to move, and Shuaibo had dared Kyungho to drink whatever came in a skull-shaped shot glass. The night had unraveled quickly.
Steven had stepped away. Too much noise. Too much motion. Too many thoughts.
He leaned against the bar, whiskey in hand, eyes fixed on nothing. The alcohol wasn't helping -- not really. Not when all he could think about was JL. The plane. That quiet moment between them that felt too heavy to carry and too fragile to put down.
You're one of the most precious people in my life.
Steven hadn't stopped thinking about it. Not for a second.
And then, something shifted.
The prickle of attention. A feeling behind the ribs, like gravity was tugging in a different direction.
He turned. And saw him.
Across the club, someone stood by a velvet booth like it had been carved for him. The boy was impossible not to see. Not in a loud way. In the way that made everyone else blur around the edges. Silver-blond hair fell artfully across his cheek, catching the light like spun metal. His face was all edges and symmetry -- eyes too clear, lips too perfect. The kind of beautiful that felt unreal.
And he was staring at Steven.
Not glancing.
Not curious.
Just... locked in. Like he'd chosen him and that was that.
Something flickered in Steven's expression. The boy smiled. Slow. Devastating.
Then he started walking.
People didn't move out of his way. He didn't expect them to. But somehow, the path cleared anyway. Like the room made space for him.
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