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

Chapter 83: Even Those Who Are Broken

* * * 

"So let me get this straight," Woongki said, after Coach Yang finished explaining. "The Zhang family basically just held the entire university hostage to keep JL here?"

"They made a strongly worded suggestion," Coach Yang corrected.

"With financial implications," Kyungho added.

"And possible cancellation of all our athletic programs if we don't comply," Jeongwoo noted.

"So... hostage," Woongki concluded.

Shuaibo sat in the corner, expression unreadable. He'd known this was coming -- had orchestrated parts of it -- but watching his family's incredible influence play out was unsettling.

"JL will be offered extended medical leave," Coach Yang continued. "After which, he can transition to an assistant coaching position. The university has agreed to maintain his scholarship through the transition period."

"Because of the Zhangs," Kyungho said. Not a question.

"Because he earned it," Coach Yang replied firmly. "That relay finish brought more attention to this program than we've had in years. The Zhang family's... interest... simply helped the administration remember that."

Steven leaned forward. "He won't accept charity."

"It's not charity," Shuaibo said, and for a moment his voice carried an echo of his family's iron certainty. "It's about honor. JL's victory brought glory to KNSU. By extension, it brought honor to the Zhang name. My family doesn't permit that honor to be... tarnished by allowing him to leave in defeat."

"So they're protecting their reputation," Han said flatly.

"They're protecting what reflects on them," Shuaibo corrected with a wry smile. "JL made us all look good. Made me look good. Can't have that story end with 'and then they sent him home in a wheelchair.' Bad optics for the Zhang legacy."

He shrugged, the gesture somehow both casual and heavy. "Honestly, the same thing would probably happen to any of you. You're all associated with me now. My grandfather would probably fund Woongki's entire skincare line if it meant avoiding the shame of a Zhang teammate going bankrupt."

"Really?" Woongki perked up. "Because I have some ideas about bringing honor to your family name through revolutionary K-beauty -- "

"All you bring is budgetary increases," Shuaibo said dryly. "Do you know how much my family has probably allocated just to cover your snack expenses?"

"That's called investing in morale," Woongki protested. "My radiant skin brings honor to the team aesthetic."

The banter helped, a little. Made the whole thing feel less like a dynasty pulling strings and more like... what it really was. A family protecting its image by protecting those who affected it. 

"The point is," Shuaibo said, sobering slightly, "JL earned his place here. My family is just... ensuring the narrative matches the achievement."

Chih En watched Shuaibo throughout the meeting, catching the way his hands trembled slightly when he spoke of his family, the look in his eyes that suggested something had been paid for this miracle. Always perceptive, especially when it came to Shuaibo, Chih En filed the observation away. He would ask later, when they were alone.

* * * 

Two days later, Chih En found him on the roof of the athletics building, sitting with his legs dangling over the edge, staring at nothing.

"You weren't at practice."

"I was... thinking," Shuaibo said simply.

Chih En sat down beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched. In all their years of guarded friendship, careful distances, Shuaibo had never looked this hollow.

"Shuaibo," Chih En said softly, "did you put your grandfather up to this?"

Shuaibo's whole body stilled. Then, slowly, he turned to look at Chih En with eyes that held too much.

"How did you know?"

"Because I know you," Chih En said simply. "Because you've been looking like someone who paid a price they can't afford."

Shuaibo's voice was hollow, but he put on a small rueful smile. "I went home. I went and I bowed and I... I begged. Like a character from one of those historical dramas."

Chih En's breath caught. "You bowed."

"Prostrated myself. Full obeisance. Forehead to marble." A bitter laugh. "Seven years of rebellion and he won't even know I did it for him. Sucks I broke such an amazing streak."

"Why?"

Shuaibo finally looked at him. "Because he's ours. Because we don't abandon our own. Because..." He stopped, started again. "Because I realized that all my pride, all my rebellion, it was just another kind of selfishness. But this. Protecting him. That felt like something real."

Chih En stared at him -- this beautiful, impossible boy who'd walked away from power, wealth and legacy to throw javelins, who'd rejected everything that made life easy, who'd just knelt in the dirt of his ancestors for someone else's salvation.

"You gave up your freedom for him."

"I gave up my pride," Shuaibo corrected. "Turns out freedom and pride aren't the same thing. I'm free... for now."

"For now?"

"My grandfather said I've spent my defiance. Next time I kneel, it's to stay." He smiled, small and sad. "But that's a problem for another day."

Chih En looked at him for a long moment. "I'm glad."

"Glad?"

"That you're still free. That you chose this. That you're exactly who you are."

And then Chih En -- careful, controlled, calculating Chih En -- did something he'd never planned.

He kissed him.

Not softly. Not carefully. But with the kind of desperate certainty that came from finally understanding someone completely. Kissed him like he was trying to say what words couldn't: that this -- this impossible, illogical, beautiful act of love -- had cracked something open in him that might never close again.

When they pulled apart, Shuaibo was breathing hard, eyes wide.

"What was that for?"

"For showing me that strength isn't about never bending. It's about choosing what's worth bending for."

They sat there on the edge of the roof, Seoul sprawling beneath them, hands finding each other between them.

"My grandfather's letter worked," Shuaibo said eventually, voice softer, tinged with quiet relief. "JL will stay. The university didn't have a choice."

Chih En studied his expression carefully. "And you?"

Shuaibo exhaled, considering. "My family will wait. They've always been good at that -- waiting until I'm ready to be what they've raised me to be." He smiled faintly, the sadness there tempered by a gentle resignation. "But at least JL gets to stay. Gets the chance to figure out who he is beyond the track."

"Was it worth it?"

Shuaibo looked at him then -- openly, honestly, in a way that left no hiding place. Like someone who'd made peace with being known fully and entirely.

"Ask me again in ten years," he said softly.

But the quiet tightening of his hand around Chih En's said everything words couldn't.

And somewhere in Shanghai, Steward Li calmly inked an additional line into an ancient ledger, ensuring not just JL's continued place at the university, but his dignity as well.

Perhaps not his happiness, nor his recovery. But the House of Zhang protected its own.

Even the broken ones.