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

Chapter 79: Unraveling

Shuaibo froze, then turned slowly. "I'm sorry -- what?"

Woongki's jaw actually dropped.

Chih En gave them both a bland look, folding his arms. "I watch Inkigayo. For research."

The others laughed, or stared in open betrayal, but JL caught it -- that flicker. The subtle shift in Chih En's expression as Shuaibo stepped closer, their usual distance gone in the space of a joke. There was a casual intimacy to how Shuaibo invaded his space, all messy hair and bright eyes and zero spatial awareness.

For someone so meticulously composed, Chih En was visibly rattled -- just for a heartbeat -- before his composure locked back into place like a vault.

"You're early today," Shuaibo commented, tilting his head at him, voice softer now. Curious, almost careful. "Missed me?"

Chih En didn't smile, exactly, but his face softened imperceptibly. "You wish," he replied evenly, but JL didn't miss the slight tilt in his voice, warmer than usual. He didn't know what was happening between them, but it felt a little like being caught in someone else's dream. A strange, slow-motion unfolding. The kind of moment you weren't supposed to witness. Or maybe you were... maybe it needed an audience to be real.

For second, JL envied how natural it looked. That ease. That slow, quiet pull between two people, like gravity with good timing. Because nothing about his own situation -- with Han, with Steven -- felt like gravity. It felt like orbiting a sun that could burn you alive.

Shuaibo's gaze lingered a fraction longer before he turned to JL, his playful grin faltering slightly as he took in JL's tired eyes and flushed cheeks. "JL, did you sleep here?"

JL forced a laugh. "Almost."

"Someone tell this man we have beds for a reason," Woongki interjected. "You know, for sleeping? Not for decoration."

The momentary levity felt fragile, easily shattered, and JL knew he couldn't linger in it. With a nod, he returned to the track, feeling their eyes on him.

* * *

The team mess hall at dawn was a fragrant whirlwind of freshly steamed rice, soybean paste soup bubbling gently in metal pots, seaweed crisps piled high, and kimchi arranged in bright, precise clusters of red. Kyungho poured barley tea into ceramic cups, carefully placing them at each seat. Breakfast conversations hovered comfortably over familiar territory: Nationals and each athlete's event.

"Javelin is my event," Shuaibo said through a mouthful of rice, eyes gleaming like he hadn't already told this story three times. "But I wasn't expecting to break anything. I hadn't even stretched."

"You're ridiculous," Woongki muttered with a laugh, flicking a chopstick wrapper at him. "One minute you're whining about missing bubble tea, the next you're out there setting historical markers like it's a side quest."

He grinned as he said it -- genuine, affectionate, the way you rag on someone you love because you were there to watch it happen.

Across the table, Chih En stirred his soup, then added in his low, composed voice, "It was a beautiful throw. You deserved that record."

Shuaibo, for once, didn't have a comeback. His mouth was still full, but even after he swallowed, he said nothing, just looked over at Chih En with a flicker of disbelief, like something had tilted sideways and he wasn't sure if anyone else noticed. Woongki, of course, noticed everything, and promptly choked on a bite of kimchi.

Kyungho, thoughtful as ever, sipped his tea. "High jump went smoothly. Nationals should be manageable."

Woongki sighed theatrically, resting his chin on his palm. "Easy for you to say, you're currently the top scorer on the leaderboard. I still see Kairi's annoyingly serene face every time I close my eyes. I can't lose again. It's unhealthy for my ego."