The charity ball game is more fun than Yoongi imagined. It's a different feeling being able to share the court with Jungkook and Namjoon and the other guys after so long. Seungkwan and Soon-young are still rascals but they're such beasts once they're focused. One of the players Yoongi coached and got drafted last year is here, too. Playing with him is a privilege that the younger man expressed.
He's not exactly sure why he's here. It's all professional players he's with and a few others from the developmental team, but the coaches insisted they wanted to honor him. The court misses him, too, they'd said, and it would be nice to see him play again just like their team's golden era when he was still the captain.
It doesn't give Yoongi that heartache as it did before. There was a time when he couldn't be around his peers; the jealousy was too much, and Yoongi was filled with guilt that he hated himself for. There was a time when he couldn't stand being on the court, too, scared to fall and hurt himself again and feel what it was like having everything he worked hard for slip away.
But it's different this time, he thinks, as he's somehow found his place in the world of this sport. Playing is more nostalgic, but he thinks that after his 10-point first half, he might have to play again just for fun, beyond the shoot around with the players or his fellow coaches.
"You truly belong out there," says the coach, his coach, the one who'd led their team to championships before. "You're such a joy to watch, Yoongi, and to coach. I've never had a captain as great as you."
The compliment means more than the old man would know. This is a legend himself, coaching the Anyang KGC who are currently on top of the professional league standings. This is someone who's always believed in him, pushed him to do and be more for his teammates and for himself. He owes much of what he achieved to the person sitting next to him.
"You taught me a lot," Yoongi responds. "I thought I'd be playing this sport for more years than I did but things don't happen the way we want sometimes and that's okay. My opportunity's passed and it's something I've accepted."
His coach nods in agreement, knowing there's truth to those words. Basketball here is gaining popularity with more players than there are teams that could take them; young and healthy ones are the priority.
"I still think this sport needs you, though. In fact, not being a player gives you more opportunities," his coach says encouragingly. "You can do anything. I'm looking forward to seeing what else that is."
Yoongi feels a sense of calm at the exchange. The game continues but the moment is one his coach thought good enough to take to assure him like all the times he had done before.
Yoongi takes the floor in the third quarter, calling plays and making jump shots as if he never stopped doing it. Even with limited minutes, he's able to contribute greatly. Just being on the court again is enough, and when the game ends with their win and he's celebrating with his team over barbecue and beer, he feels like it's closure to the dream he once had.
Opting to go for a drive before going home, he stops by the playground he always went to. It's dim with just the streetlights on, and it gives him a better view of what was once the only world he knew.
Sometimes, dreams change. Or they could take a different form. It could be that the value is in the dreaming, even if it won't ever be achieved. One could realize they didn't want it as much. It's possible to pause it, too, that it's something one can't work towards right now but they will, after life settles down. Maybe a person can have more than one big dream; maybe as people get older, they realize they just want small, gentle ones.
Maybe it's all this, Yoongi thinks, as he sits on the bench right by the basketball court. Things flash before his eyes - a 10-year old boy realizing he loved the sport, high school days playing pick-up games, weekends during college when he had time to spare to shoot around with his teammates.
But it's not the cheers he hears nor the dribble of the ball.
It's your laughter. And his.
It's your whines that you can't shoot. And his step-by-step instructions on how to do it.
It's your squeal when you finally make it. And his chuckles when you claim that you can now beat him one-on-one.
It's your tired sigh and requests for a good meal when you get to his place. And his tender voice asking you what you want, hand-in-hand as you walk back to his car.
Dreams change, Yoongi thinks. Or they can be in a different form. But after all these years, he realizes that the one thing that hasn't changed is you.