Archive of Our Own ^beta

Seungkwan wouldn’t really describe herself as a creature of routine.

While she can adhere to a strict schedule when focused on a goal, she is too impulsive, too capricious to be considered as such.

That being said, she has always found the immutability of sport halls incredibly calming, even with the excitement filling the air right before a match.

No matter the time and age, no matter Seungkwan’s thoughts or her personal conditions on that day, that particular mix of sweat and adrenaline from the athletes starting their warm ups, the faint aroma of the snacks coming from the stands, the hints of cleaning products still lingering in the air is always the same. And the sounds, too. The murmurs of conversations and laughter of the crowd that’s beginning to fill the arena, some sparse announcement from the speaker, the squeaks of shoes on the court.

It’s reassuring, in a way. Grounding.

Again, Seungkwan isn’t particularly a creature of routine, but she likes to think there are some immutable things in this universe.

Just like the churning in her stomach, hot and fueling, whenever she’s about to play against her lifelong rival.

She can already see her on the other side of the volleyball court, the tall and lean figure, the high ponytail. More than that, Seungkwan can hear her, with that loud, bright laugh she puts aside only when she’s focused during a match.

“You’re scowling,” somebody informs her with a nudge that’s more of an elbow to her shoulder.

When Seungkwan looks away from her nemesis to see who is disrupting her concentration, she’s not surprised to see Soonyoung, ponytail already messy and wiggly eyebrows. Seungkwan’s scowl is now directed to her, and it’s well-deserved.

“I’m just focused. We’re about to play against Lee Seokmin, I need all my concentration.”

Seungkwan states it as she always does, a broken record at this point. She could probably stop, given the general exasperated murmur her words always generate but, obviously, she has no intention to.

“You do know she’s not the only one playing in Pink Spiders, right?”

This time is Chan who’s talking, definitely more innocent than Soonyoung but not less inopportune. Seungkwan doesn’t deign her with an answer, fixing her own hair with the 2436th hairpin (her short bob is awfully cute, but a pain in the ass to properly style for playing) and then proceeding to tape together her right pinky and ring finger that got hurt after a badly done block two weeks ago. She’s not doing a very good job with her left hand though, and it’s not long before their team’s manager, Hansol, takes the tape from her hand and starts redoing the bandage from scratch.

Which would be good and well-appreciated, if Hansol didn’t decide to open her silly mouth now of all times.

“Don’t be upset, Boo. It’s cute how you hyperfixate on Lee Seokmin.”

Rich, coming from a girl who gets obsessed about the most random things and somehow manages to be silent about it and simultaneously make it everyone else’s problem.

Seungkwan arches up a brow. “Well, she’s the ace. Of course I’m wary of her.”

Hansol lifts her disturbingly perceptive eyes from her hand to fix them on her face. “Isn’t Pink Spiders’ ace Kim Mingyu?”

She snatches her hand away from Hansol (the bandage is done anyway, she did a very good job).

“Semantics. They score about the same amount of points every time.”

Points scored aren’t all that it is to an ace, of course, but Seungkwan is not going to waste time on that conversation. Not when there’s a match to play. The match.

Nobody would understand her anyway.

How to explain that Lee Seokmin might not be the best player of the country, not even of her own team (but only because it would be quite hard to surpass Kim Mingyu, nothing but a girl-shaped, left-handed hammer that scores an average of thirty points per match), but she is Seungkwan’s rival regardless?

Both the strongest players of their respective high school teams, they obviously ended up playing for rival colleges first, and for rival pro teams now. With Seungkwan being an opposite spiker and Seokmin a left-wing one, they’ve spent years literally facing each other under the net (which is not the main reason behind the hours Seungkwan has put into maniacally polishing her straights).

Seungkwan vomiting blood trying to better her attack and defense, spending long nights studying videos of past matches, and then Seokmin stepping on court and sweeping everything away with her sheer strength and yet flawless technique.

Seungkwan knows Seokmin is not the strongest spiker on her team, but how to explain that her mere presence ignites a fire within her? How to explain how badly Seungkwan wants to defeat her?

Today, as well, when they bow from the end lines of the respective halves of the court and their eyes meet for a moment, Seungkwan’s stomach lurches with a mix of nerves and the thrill of competition. As they set into position, Seungkwan stares at Seokmin from across the net, the ponytail swinging behind her head and the weirdly flattering hot pink uniform, and she has to take a deep breath to calm down before the starting whistle.

Seungkwan has the habit of studying all her opponents, and especially Seokmin. Video after video plus all the years she’s seen her playing, the uncountable number of matches against each other, training together in youth leagues and attending the same volleyball camps. She knows Seokmin’s style better than her own at this point, and yet Seokmin still manages to take her by surprise.

Seungkwan gives her a run for her money, of course she does. Because she’s poured her goddamn soul into this sport and because she’s nothing but stubborn and proud.

She defends and she spikes and she blocks Seokmin’s attack. Her injured fingers scream in pain after a perfect block, the loud sound of the ball smashed on the ground echoing in the arena before deafening cheers erupt. Seungkwan smirks wildly at her, and Seokmin - polite Seokmin, Seokmin who always smiles so brightly to everyone - returns the smirk with the same fire. Ready to retaliate.

Seungkwan plays well, she always does when she’s facing Seokmin.

Today, though, it’s not enough.

Seungkwan stretches her lips into a smile to return those of the Pink Spiders’ girls at the end of the match, a blur of bows and shaken hands. She tries to be present with her mind and feelings during her team's post-match stretching session, a moment to finally relax after the earlier tension and to talk about the game.

They did well, all things considered. Red Sparks' players are all adults and experienced enough to recognize a good game even when they lose and know that, sometimes, the opponent was simply stronger or played better. The conversation flows easily, focusing more on pointing out the good plays and strategies than on underlining what didn't work.

Seungkwan's smile gets smaller but more genuine. Red Sparks are good, she's glad to be with them.

She bends her left knee toward her glutes and lies her back down on the cold floor, stretching the quad. She makes a little sound at the sensation, half-pain and half-relief, and tries focusing on that and shutting off her brain without much success.

They’re still at the start of the tournament, so it’s not a huge loss, but Seungkwan still feels the sting of it. She should be more rational and not so hung up on getting every win she can, constantly needing to demonstrate that she's good, that she's capable. And Seungkwan knows she's good. She wouldn't be a fixed starting player on such a strong team otherwise. There are stats to prove her worth as an athlete, the words of her teammates, of her coach, of her opponents.

Still, sometimes it feels like there's something eating her up from the inside. A constant sense of uneasiness, the sensation of not doing enough.

"Aaah, I can't wait to take a long, good shower!" Soonyoung exclaims springing up to her feet in an alien show of energy.

"That would be a first," Seungkwan mutters absentmindedly, mouth moving more on instinct than by volition.

Her face must be doing something though, because Soonyoung doesn't retort with anything and simply nudges her shoulder and asks, "You coming?"

Seungkwan slides her a quick glance. Strands of blonde hair are plastered to her sweaty face, still bright red even after the cool down. She played an amazing game today, jumping around for two hours like a crazy person. She deserves that long shower, one without thoughts and worries.

Seungkwan waves her away. "Go ahead, unnie. I'm going to stretch my legs a little more, I don't want them to get bulky."

Brows pulled together, Soonyoung tilts her head and gives Seungkwan a sharp, assessing look. It lasts a moment, and then she's nodding, a loud "don't take too long, Kwan-ah," before following the rest of the team to the changing rooms.

Seungkwan drops down on the bench with a sigh, wrapping herself in the uniform sweatshirt and with no intention of stretching any further.

The season has barely started and she's already being way too emotional.

It's just… it's all because of Lee Seokmin. If it wasn't for her, Seungkwan wouldn't feel so damn inadequate all the time.

They started playing around the same time, went to the same training camps, followed the very same career path and reached their milestones simultaneously. Seungkwan works hard (well, apparently not hard enough), but at times it feels like no matter what she does, there's always going to be a gap between her and Seokmin. She makes everything look so easy, while Seungkwan hasn't spent a day in the past years without sweating and bleeding.

She realizes she's clenching her hands too tightly when she feels a sharp burning, her short nails a second away from breaking the skin.

She really should go. Take a hot shower, follow her 10-steps skincare routine. Spend thirty minutes styling her curtain bangs (again, terrifically cute but what a pain in the ass. Being cute is a damn full-time job). Bicker with Chan and let Jeonghan-unnie pamper her with the biggest bowl of ramen ever. And some fried chicken. And ice cream.

Then, Seungkwan will feel like herself again.

She leaves the main court right when the gym staff comes in to start cleaning, but stops right after turning at the first corner.

Lee Seokmin, seated cross legged on the floor, still in her uniform.

Wondering if she's still in time to go back and find another way to the changing rooms, Seungkwan's mouth twists in a grimace when Seokmin turns her head and sees her. The grimace gets worse when Seokmin smiles, her eyes shining.

"Seungkwan-ah!"

She really makes everything look easy, doesn't she. Both on the court and off of it.

"Hi," Seungkwan mutters while getting closer, her plans of escaping ruined.

Unwillingly, her eyes fall on Seokmin’s long legs, the strong muscles of her thighs bulging out a little from the position she’s in. Seungkwan scoffs internally. Seokmin has some of the best legs she's ever seen, that’s another thing that never changes.

The only reason why she doesn't spend too much time on that thought is that she gets distracted by the silly movements Seokmin is making, weirdly twisting her upper body while she tries to put a pack of dry ice on her back.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Seokmin blinks at her with those round eyes and shows her the ice pack.

"I'm trying to apply some ice to the back of my shoulder," she provides unhelpfully.

Seungkwan does her best to not roll her eyes. "Yes. But why are you doing it here? Can't you get someone from your team to help you?"

At that, Seokmin freezes for a moment, then squirms uneasily on her spot on the floor. She bites her lips, attempting a smile.

"Oh, well, you know… I'll ask them when I have to apply it again after I wash up. Now, I…"

She doesn't finish, letting her words trail off.

Surprisingly, Seungkwan understands. The feeling of not wanting others to know how fucked up your body is, how much it truly hurts. To not show any vulnerability, to not make them worry. Seungkwan thinks about her knee, how she still has to wear a brace to play because she didn't say immediately how bad it was.

It's a shock to her system, the realization of this toxic trait they have in common.

"Here, give it to me," Seungkwan offers with an impatient fleur of her hand.

Seokmin's lips twitch. "Are you going to take this chance to tamper with my shoulder?" she asks cheekily while handing her the dry ice.

Seungkwan sits beside her with an overly dramatic sigh. "Please." She presses the ice against the back of her shoulder, not bothering with gentleness. Seokmin flinches a little. "I don't need to do that to beat you."

Hilarious, coming from the person who literally lost against her less than one hour ago.

Seokmin must be having the same thought, but she's compassionate enough to limit herself to a "That's funny," before shifting against the ice pack. “Can you…” She stops, as if unsure whether to ask. “Can you press it more towards the center?”

Seungkwan does so, moving the pack closer to her spine, the bumps of it clear under her hot pink uniform. She hasn’t put any clothes over her sleeveless top, probably to let the ice do its work, and there are small goosebumps erupting through her skin. Seungkwan clears her throat.

“Here?”

“Yes, that’s perfect,” Seokmin confirms, relaxing her back with a sigh and slumping against the ice pack, Seungkwan basically supporting her with one hand.

Years of knowing each other, and Seungkwan can count on one hand (the one with two fingers taped together to form one) the times they were in such close proximity.

Even while sweaty and after such an intense match, Seokmin smells sweetly. It’s not too harsh on the nose, not one of those overly-gourmand perfumes that give Seungkwan a headache. It’s simpler, more vague, it reminds Seungkwan of baby powder.

She likes it, and that makes her scowl.

“That’s what happens when your setter gives you the ball too many times,” she huffs, going back to safer thoughts.

Seokmin’s shoulders shake with a silent, brief laugh. Seungkwan can see one edge of her mouth curling up.

“You wish I didn’t attack so much, mh, Seungkwannie?”

Seungkwan doesn’t, actually. Their matches wouldn’t be half as fun if Seokmin wasn’t Pink Spiders’ second top spiker. She doesn’t say it though, for multiple reasons (god forbid Seokmin thinks she has fun playing against her), but mostly because her brain decides to get stuck on the term of endearment.

Thankfully Seokmin has moved on already, a little shrug and a less teasing tone. “I might have gone a bit too hard during yesterday’s practice, and today’s match didn’t help.”

Seungkwan hums, stopping herself from asking something lame like “you were working that hard because you were going to play against me or are you a saner person than I am?”, because why would Seokmin ever do that.

“You should be more careful,” she mutters, but it sounds less standoffish than she wanted to.

Who would have thought. Lee Seokmin, perfect technique and effortless strength, spending the night before a match overworking herself. Maybe…  maybe they’re not so different.

Seokmin turns her head, enough for Seungkwan to be staring at her full profile and to be subjected to her gaze. Seokmin seems to be staring right into her soul like she knows what’s in there, like she’s thinking you’re the one to talk.

“How’s your knee, by the way?”

She asks it like she cares, the tip of her index finger pressing down on the soft skin above Seungkwan’s knee. It burns, as if she were putting out a cigarette on her bare skin.

“I’m totally fine.”

Seokmin’s gaze holds an unnerving mix of things. Playfulness and concern, the look of a person who knows you and can spot your bullshit from a mile away. Suddenly bothered, Seungkwan looks away, setting the eyes on the side of her neck.

Bad idea.

Some damp strands of hair have escaped her ponytail and sweat and humidity are making them curl at the edges, sticking to the side of Seokmin’s long, smooth neck. For an unknown reason, the sight does something to Seungkwan, her cheeks feeling uncomfortably warm.

It’s the hair’s fault, she says to herself. Seokmin has recently dyed it blonde, and it suits her ridiculously. With her long legs, wide hips and trim waist, she looks like a stupid Barbie doll.  

The stall in the conversation gets thankfully interrupted by some chattering down the hallway as Pink Spiders’ Kim Mingyu and Jeon Wonwoo are rapidly approaching.

Not having any beef with them, Seungkwan can peacefully admit to herself that they’re quite a sight to witness up close.

Kim Mingyu, who even after a game looks like she’s just stepped off of a runaway (this is not just Seungkwan’s women-lover heart talking. She follows Mingyu on Instagram - like half the Country, even if Seungkwan doubts regular citizens are that interested in her photos and ig stories with Seokmin - and she’s pretty sure she does some influencer work on the side. You know, going to places and looking gorgeous) and Jeon Wonwoo, Pink Spiders’ manager, nearly as tall as Mingyu (a waste of height, in Seungkwan’s humble opinion) but just as pretty, round glasses and long, silky black hair that curls prettily at the ends.

Seungkwan grimaces. Forget her women-lover heart, what were the odds of three model-like ladies to be in the same team? It’s unfair to the rest of— wait.

Three?

Why would she think—

“Wonwoo-unnie!”

Seokmin springs to her feet, distancing herself from both Seungkwan and the ice pack. Mingyu stops animatedly chatting with Wonwoo to pout. “Hey, I’m here too!”

Seokmin laughs, taking the sweatshirt Wonwoo has retrieved from the floor and is now handing her. “Put it on, you’re going to get cold,” Wonwoo quietly whines when Seokmin doesn’t wear it immediately.

“Aah, unnie,” Seokmin half-giggles, half-teases. She sends her manager a bright smile, white teeth on full display and sunshine radiating from her every pore.

This is better. This is the Lee Seokmin Seungkwan is more used to. Not the one who gives her little smirks, who touches her bare skin unprompted and seems to know her every thought.

“I thought you were already getting ready to leave.”

“Oh, I was having a little nice chat with Seungkwan about today.”

The bright smile is now directed at her, along with two pairs of very pretty eyes. Seungkwan bows, murmuring a polite greeting that gets reciprocated.

“Boo Seungkwan!” Mingyu says and oh, to be on the receiving end of Kim Mingyu’s famous pouting lips! “You stressed me out today, you kept defending my attacks!”

That’s not true. Like, at all. But Mingyu is known to be generous with compliments.

“It was a very good game,” Wonwoo adds with a nod.

Seungkwan’s face is getting hotter. Even without looking, she can feel Seokmin’s eyes on her, her smile getting wider.

“Y-you’re too kind,” she stutters. “I… I should go now—”

Before they head in opposite directions to the respective changing rooms, Seokmin throws Seungkwan one last lopsided smile.

“You better win the next games, Seungkwannie.”

“I would do it even if you didn’t tell me!” she splutters indignantly. “And why do you care anyway?”

Seokmin tilts her head, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. “So that we can meet again at the finals, obviously. It’s less fun without you.”

Seungkwan’s treacherous heart skips a beat. She should get it checked.

“What a weirdo,” she sniffles, affectedly tucking her hair behind her ears. “You really must wish to lose, unnie.”

Seokmin bursts out in a loud laugh, hand covering her mouth and eyes shining bright. She leaves without another word, leaving Seungkwan speechless and way more bothered than she was thirty minutes ago.

Oh, how Seungkwan hates her.

˚₊˚⊹♡🏐♡⊹˚₊˚

Being in a sports hall not as an athlete but as a spectator is a completely different sensation, but not an unpleasant one. It’s a shift in Seungkwan’s perspective, a more immersive experience, in a way.

The crowd feels louder, distinct from the internal focus of the court. Away from the adrenaline and the tension that always comes with a game, on the stands the atmosphere is more electric, more anticipating.

It’s different, and Seungkwan wouldn’t trade the thrill of the competition with anything in the world, but she loves this. It’s a moment of study for her, sure, but also of pure, unadulterated fun.

That’s why Seungkwan watches all the matches she can, be it of her own League or anything else scheduled on her free day.

And if this season she hasn’t missed a single Pink Spiders’ match, well, it’s nothing but a coincidence. She was always free on those days, her own matches right after or before, or on a different day entirely.

Today, the usual, infuriating mix of admiration and envy Seungkwan usually feels when watching Seokmin play from outside the court is somehow tampered down by— things. Weird things.

She’s having some troubles in watching the match in its entirety, as her eyes are drawn to Seokmin at any time, and not just because of the golden hair making her immediately noticeable. The way she’s so quick on those long legs, how high she jumps, how hard she slams the ball on the ground. It’s been weeks since they met on court, and Seungkwan has been feeling like this every single time she’s seen Seokmin since that day.

Distracted. Jittery.

An annoying voice in her mind, stupidly wondering if Seokmin’s shoulder is better now. If she’s not putting too much strain on it again.

And a more annoying voice saying way more terrible things. A voice that gets louder at night, when Seungkwan is tucked into bed with her hair rollers and eye mask in place.

Today is a little different, as Seungkwan witnesses Seokmin’s usual smiles and energy dimming as the game progresses, until it ends with Pink Spiders’ defeat. It’s not their first time losing in this season, obviously, but they are at a point in the tournament where this loss means Pink Spiders are not going to reach the final.

From the stands, Seungkwan stares right ahead, eyes darting around to find Seokmin but with little result. Not because the court is too crowded, nor because Seokmin magically disappeared somewhere. No, it’s just Seungkwan’s eyes being unfocused, her vision suspiciously blurry.

She should be happy, right? The enemy finally went down, and all that.

But… wasn’t she the one supposed to beat Seokmin? What’s the point, if someone else did it? They should have met again during the final game, they—

There’s a touch on her shoulder. Chan is giving her a sympathetic look while patting her shoulder in what seems an attempt to comfort her.

“What are you doing?” Seungkwan asks, her voice hoarser than expected but otherwise pretty stable. She sounds mostly perplexed, to her own ears at least, which is the other reaction Chan usually pulls out of her other than annoyance (okay, okay. That’s a lie. Chan is her best friend after all, even if Seungkwan will never say it out loud).

Chan, as expected, isn’t bothered by her tone, moving her comforting touches from Seungkwan’s shoulder to her head. Seungkwan swats her hand away. She spent ages styling her hair the way she wanted today, her new rigid pastel green headband placed in the perfect spot on her head, with the right proportion of hair on each side.

“I’m trying to comfort you,” Chan says nonchalantly. “Since your favorite player just lost.”

“My favorite player is Wen Junhui,” Seungkwan fires back with zero hesitation.

She isn’t even lying. Wen Junhui is a literal goddess.

Chan blinks at her. She looks silly, but Seungkwan is kind and doesn’t point it out. She also looks kind of cute, with her newly dyed pink hair. A silly, cute pixie. Seungkwan doesn’t say that either. Mostly because she’s grateful the subject gets dropped and that Chan doesn’t comment when Seungkwan tells her to go ahead when they’re about to leave the sports hall.

She doesn’t know what’s pushing her feet in that particular direction, nor why she’s doing it.

All Seungkwan knows is that she only needs to take a few steps into the hallway next to the court, the one leading to the changing rooms, to find, not so far from the spot where they last talked, Seokmin.

Seungkwan does not get any closer, still unsure if she wants Seokmin to know she’s here. Unsure on why she’s here in the first place, which mysterious force made her look for Seokmin. Does Seungkwan really want to rub the loss in her face so badly? Does she want to see her defeated face up this close?

She just stands there, waiting for the surge of vindication, of triumph. Some sense of satisfaction.

Nothing comes.

There’s none of it because Seokmin is crying, and she’s a trembling thing curled up on the floor, head on her bent legs and hidden by her arms. Her back is moving up and down quickly, shaken by little sobs that echo in the empty hallway.

Seungkwan freezes, pondering over whether to leave or not. She probably should. If she were in Seokmin’s place, she surely wouldn’t want anyone, especially her rival, to see her like this, in a show of such vulnerability.

She doesn’t leave though, her brain suddenly silent as she takes a few hesitant steps until she’s in front of Seokmin.

“Hey.”

Her call is quiet, but Seokmin hears it anyway. She startles, lifting her head to look up at Seungkwan and— shit.

Big brown eyes filled with tears, face flushed and full pink lips slightly downturned.

Oh, no.

Seokmin is such a pretty crier.

The surprise on her face lasts a second before Seokmin realizes who she is and goes back crying.

Well, at least she doesn’t seem to have any problem with Seungkwan seeing her like this. Whether that is a good or a bad thing, Seungkwan isn’t sure.

Mentally patting herself on the back for not wearing a short skirt, Seungkwan crouches down on the floor, hands awkwardly fumbling around. She’s not the best at consoling people, and when she does she relies a lot on physical contact. And she’s not sure if she wants to touch Seokmin right now (or ever). If she should. If she’s allowed to.

She settles for a little touch on her elbow. “Come on, it’s not the end of the world,” says the person who would be having the exact same reaction in this situation.

Seokmin shakes her head. “I-I played s-so badly,” she hiccups. “It was all m-my fault. I dragged everyone down.” She hides the face in her hands with a pathetic cry. “I’m useless. I’m just stupid garbage Seokmin.”

That throws Seungkwan’s world off its axes. It’s a shock, like opening a door that she didn’t even know existed.

Sunny Seokmin, smiling Seokmin. So full of sunshine that Pink Spiders’ supporters pull out little paper suns when she scores a particularly amazing point. She’s so optimistic, so genuinely enthusiastic, always the first to cheer up on her teammates. Not like Seungkwan, so ready to pull herself down at the first inconvenience, always prone to little tantrums.

Seokmin who is so strong, so good. Everything seems to be so easy for her, from looking good in whatever color she dyes her hair, to being liked by everybody, to scoring twenty-five points in one match.

Seungkwan never thought she could get like this.

She doesn’t know what to do to make her feel better.

She doesn’t know why she wants her to feel better.

“Don’t be so full of yourself,” she decides on saying, and Seokmin jolts her head up, eyes wide in shock. “You’re not playing alone. One person can’t bring down a whole team on their own.”

Words that have been repeated to Seungkwan for years and that sometimes still struggle to sink into her hard skull. Seokmin nods her head slowly, tears still trickling down her cheeks.

Seungkwan’s brain is having trouble trying to focus on consoling her rather than how absurdly gorgeous she looks.

“You’re not Kim Mingyu, after all,” she finishes with a snobbish huff.

The way a smile blooms on Seokmin’s face is nothing less than breathtaking. It’s a small, wobbly one, but it’s enough to make Seungkwan’s heart pick up its pace.

“That’s very true,” Seokmin says with a derisive chuckle.

It sounds worryingly self-deprecating, and Seungkwan is quick to clarify, “But you played well today, unnie. For real.”

Seokmin’s eyes shine a little more brightly, her smile looks a little more confident. She’s looking at Seungkwan like she’s just realized something.

“You came to today’s game.”

“Well, yes, since I’m he—”

“You always come to watch my games.”

Her voice is sugary-sweet, head innocently tilted left. Seungkwan swallows.

How does she know, it’s her first thought. The second one is all for Seokmin’s hand covering hers, which has come to curl on Seokmin’s knee at some point during the brief exchange, all without Seungkwan noticing.

Seungkwan doesn’t find it in herself to counteract. Anything she’d say would sound like a lie or a lame justification. Not that she’d be able to form a coherent thought anyway, with how they have somehow gotten closer. Seungkwan can see the little mole on Seokmin’s left cheek, her long lashes glistening with tears.

Seokmin’s grip on her hand tightens at the same moment her gaze falls on Seungkwan’s mouth, and Seungkwan stops breathing. Her skin is buzzing in the point they’re touching, her whole body is vibrating with anticipation. An unwelcome, vague heaviness settles between her legs.

Leaning in feels like a slow descent into madness, a jump into the unknown, and Seungkwan sighs, lashes fluttering close, when her phone starts ringing.

They both jump, nearly smashing their faces together in a very un-sexy way.

“What?” Seungkwan nearly barks at Chan when she picks up the call. “Yes, yes. I’m coming.”

She closes the call and takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Chan was probably just wondering if somebody had kidnapped her, but still. Her cheeks warm up when she thinks about what could have happened if Chan hadn’t interrupted them.

She dares a glance at Seokmin, which makes things worse. From the look she’s giving Seungkwan, hot and startled at the same time, her thoughts aren't so different from hers.

"It was Chan," Seungkwan informs her. Then she adds on a second thought, "Red Sparks' wing spiker."

"I know who she is."

Seokmin is smiling at her like she thinks she's being silly (she has no idea how right she is). Then, she leans in again, and Seungkwan freezes as she brings a hand to her face, closer and closer, until Seokmin is touching her hair. It's a quick touch, just Seokmin sliding a strand between her fingers, staring entrenched at Seungkwan's hair.

"Where did you get your headband? It's so cute."

The startling change in topic and Seokmin's little pout are destabilizing.

"I'll… I'll send you the link?" Seungkwan offers before remembering they don’t have each other’s number, nor they follow each other on any sns. Stupid, given the amount of time they’ve known each other, but that’s how things are.

Seokmin smiles knowingly. Her eyes are still wet and there are two red splotches on top of her cheeks.

“I don’t have your number, though.”

With a huff that she hopes sounds exasperated and not embarrassed, Seungkwan extends her hand for Seokmin’s phone. When the awkward ordeal of exchanging contacts is over, Seokmin stares down at the screen for several moments with an unreadable expression.

“Seungkwan-ah,” she calls after a while, gazing back at Seungkwan. “You need to win the tournament, okay?”

It’s stupid, because why would Seokmin care about who wins in the end, now that her team is out?

But it’s not stupid at all, because Seokmin is sniffling again, the corners of her mouth dangerously upturned in a trembling pout that, Seungkwan knows now, is her premise for crying.

Seungkwan looks away, feeling stupidly tender. She moves her hand back on Seokmin’s bare knee, twitching only a little when it gets covered by Seokmin’s.

“I would even if you didn’t tell me,” she mutters, face aflame.

˚₊˚⊹♡🏐♡⊹˚₊˚

After exchanging numbers and sending Seokmin the link of the shop she bought the headband from (to which Seokmin replied with a thank you followed by an exorbitant amount of exclamation points and emojis. Then, another text five minutes later. Woah this site has so many cute things! several crying emojis, a string of hearts, Seungkwan-ah, crying face, bear, pink ribbon, crying face, pink heart) Seungkwan feels confident enough to finally follow Seokmin on Instagram.

It’s a perfectly normal thing to do, given that they have already texted and talked more in the past weeks than they have in years. And Seungkwan follows several Pink Spiders’ players, so it isn’t weird that she found Seokmin’s account through theirs (maybe what’s weird is that she hasn’t followed Seokmin until now, but that’s a thought for another day).

It’s a welcomed novelty, finding Seokmin’s photos directly on her feed and not having to manually type her username. Very time saving.

About ten minutes later Seokmin is following her back, something that leaves Seungkwan staring at her own profile, suddenly self-conscious.

She doesn’t particularly obsess over her Instagram. She puts some thought into it, and like any other person she takes sixty photos of herself only to post three or four of them, the only ones that satisfy her enough.

Seungkwan doesn’t have any specific issue with how her feed looks, but the idea of Seokmin following her and seeing her pictures sends her down a spiral of self-doubt. Maybe her photos aren’t as nice as she thinks. Doesn’t she look weird in this one? Isn’t the lighting in this other one making her look shorter? She spends an indefinite amount of time scrolling through them, stopping herself from archiving half of the posts.

There are no other notifications from Seokmin though. No new likes, no comments.

Seungkwan tries to stop the rush of panic that’s about to hit her. This is completely normal. Why would Seokmin go and like her old photos? Even more than that, why would she care about going through Seungkwan’s profile right after following her? Surely she simply followed her back with no other thought.

Seungkwan isn’t sure which is the worst option. Seokmin not deeming any of her posts worthy of her like, or her not caring at all about taking a look at her feed.

After that brief exchange, she doesn’t hear from Seokmin anymore, and has no intention of initiating any sort of interaction. She is tempted, her mind going to Seokmin every moment she isn’t thinking about the upcoming match. She could ask Seokmin if she ended up buying anything from that site, or place some tactic likes on her posts.

She doesn’t, because Boo Seungkwan doesn’t run after anyone.

The thought of Seokmin is a fixed presence in the back of Seungkwan’s mind though, and, a week later, she arrives on the day before Red Sparks’ decisive match for the finals feeling like a wire pulled tight and ready to snap at the slightest strain.

Like it often happens when an important match is around the corner, Jeonghan has dragged some of them out of the gym after evening practice to a cute place in Hongdae for a smoothie (or, in Seungkwan’s case, for the fourth iced americano of the day).

Jeonghan isn’t really the cute-cafè-kind-of-girl, even less now that she has to go around with crutches after her ankle surgery. She did say (earlier at the gym while dangling her wallet in front of her face, promising to pay for the night) it was to make them stop thinking about tomorrow, but Seungkwan knows her main purpose was to prevent Soonyoung from spending the whole night at the gym and to pull Seungkwan out of her head. Maybe, Jeonghan herself needed to stop thinking about how she wouldn’t be able to play for yet another match.

Whatever the case, it’s still a nice way to wind down and release her anxiety (plus, the free drinks) so Seungkwan wears her pastel green cardigan with the tangerines print over a simple denim skirt and spends some time styling her hair after the shower, well-decided on having fun with her friends and stop thinking about Seokmin.

Which turns out to be an impossible task, because the moment they step inside the cafè Seungkwan hears a very familiar laugh, and her eyes immediately find the main object of her most recent thoughts sitting only a few tables away from the one Seungkwan’s companions are headed toward.

The primal reaction is to flee the place with some excuse, but Jeonghan has slowly lowered herself on the cushioned seat, crouch placed right beside her, and Chan is already at the counter to order their drinks. It leaves Seungkwan with no alternative other than joining them and hoping for the best.

Saying she feels stupid would be an understatement.

She never does this. She doesn’t let other people have so much power over her, to the point of influencing her behavior and getting in the way of free caffeine.

She doesn’t even know why she wants to avoid Seokmin, why the idea of Seokmin seeing her here is causing her so much anxiety. She just… she has been thinking too much about her, about that almost-kiss (because if Chan hadn’t interrupted them last week, they would have kissed… right? Right?), about her pretty face and pretty eyes and blonde hair and long legs and— Anyway.

Seungkwan doesn’t know how to face her, too scared of her own thoughts and possible actions (and, then, of the possible Seokmin’s reactions).

So, she’s going to do her very best to not find herself in that situation. Easy.

It would be easy, if Seungkwan was a robot. But, as much as she’d like to, she isn’t a machine. She’s very much human, and through the whole night her gaze is constantly drawn to Seokmin.

She’s wearing her hair down, a smooth cascade of golden silk down her neck reaching just beneath her shoulder blades. That alone is enough to make Seungkwan swallow, fingers itching to thread through the smoothness, wondering how it would feel.

Add her outfit to the mix, an oversize varsity jacket from her university (Seungkwan is pretty sure it’s the men’s model, and for some reason it makes her blood boil) and the shortest white tennis skirt known to mankind.

Or maybe the length is pretty standard, and it’s just Seokmin’s kilometric legs that make it look tiny. Seungkwan’s eyes rake over them, an endless expanse of smooth, lean muscle. The plushness of her thighs and the definition of her calves, perfect knees and slim ankles disappearing under a pair of white short socks.

It’s a disproportionate reaction to a simple pair of legs, but all Seungkwan can think about is how badly she wants to bury her face between them.

Soonyoung makes a little jump on the chair and Chan places a hand over her heart as Seungkwan suddenly slams the glass down on the table, feeling hot and upset at the images her brain is producing. This is exactly what she shouldn’t be doing tonight.

Okay, it might have been a while since Seungkwan got any good action (she’s busy and has standards, okay?). And, sure, Seokmin is hot. Seungkwan can admit it to herself. She has eyes. She can be objective.

But that doesn’t explain how weird she feels seeing Seokmin being all chummy with Mingyu, attached to her hip and busy with some weird mix of bantering and laughing. Or Seokmin turning to Wonwoo with a bright smile, so fast she nearly spills the beer from a glass as big as her head, saying something that makes Wonwoo hide a smile behind her hand and slap Seokmin's shoulder with the other.

Or again, how she feels when Seokmin decides to give her attention to the petite, fair-skinned, cute Lee Jihoon, Pink Spiders' libero. The painful spin Seungkwan's stomach does when Seokmin throws herself at Jihoon and tries to kiss her only to be shoved away. Seokmin laughs, tries again with Wonwoo and nearly falls down in the attempt.

No one looks surprised at the scene, not even Jihoon (despite her ears going bright red), so it must be a common behavior for Seokmin to go on a crazy-kisser-mode during her free time.

That's all very nice, but Seungkwan has had enough.

She jumps on her feet like there are sprinkles under her, hitting both knees against the table in the haste of getting up.

"Woah, Kwan-ah!" Soonyoung exclaims, saving her glass from falling down by a hair.

"Is everything okay?" Jeonghan asks, and Seungkwan has to look away from her perceptive eyes.

"Yes, I… I need to go to the toilet."

Not waiting for an answer, Seungkwan sprints in the toilet's direction without looking back. She has to walk by Seokmin's table, but she's not worried. Seokmin seems far too busy to notice her.

The restroom is blissfully empty, so to give Seungkwan the privacy to stare at her reflection in the mirror like a woman one step away from a mental breakdown, and try to regain a semblance of normalcy. She pats some fresh water on her cheekbones, carefully so as not to ruin her makeup, then runs her hands through the locks of hair framing her face, smoothing them down. When she looks back in the mirror, she still looks spooked, a sort of crazy glint in her eyes and her chest slightly heaving.

She feels so— annoyed. Not only by the rush of arousal that caught her earlier, but also by the very unwelcome feeling of jealousy in seeing Seokmin being friendly with other people. She feels annoyed, and the fact that she feels this way bothers her.

Hasn’t she given Seokmin enough power over herself already? Will the day ever come when she’ll be free from her?

“Seungkwan-ah! I thought I saw you earlier, it’s really you!”

Apparently, today is not the day of Seungkwan’s liberation.

She slides a glance to Seokmin, keeping to face the mirror and murmuring a weak greeting. Maybe, if she makes it clear that she isn’t in the mood for making conversation, Seokmin will leave without causing too much damage.

Seokmin steps closer to the sink counter with a smile, clearly not sensing the weird atmosphere. She’s standing a few inches from Seungkwan, not close enough to be invading her personal space, but still. Too close. Enough for the right side of Seungkwan’s body to feel warmer.

From this distance, Seokmin’s hair looks slightly damaged, dry from the bleaching. The ends curl right on top of her breasts, the blonde enhanced by the baby blue t-shirt she’s wearing. The top of her cheekbones is flushed pink, Seungkwan unsure if from the beer or from makeup.

She looks pretty. Even more so when she leans in, one hand on the counter as leverage.

“Tomorrow’s the big day, uhm? Good luck.”

Seokmin has the best intentions, like always.

It makes Seungkwan’s stomach lurch with rage, because why is she being so nice? This years’ tournament is over for Seokmin’s team, their chance to go to the finals vanished with their last match.

Seokmin is supposed to be jealous of Seungkwan, to resent her. She should be drowning in bitterness about her defeat.

Seungkwan knows she would, were she in Seokmin’s shoes.

“Don’t talk like you care,” she snaps.

On any other occasion, Seungkwan would have felt guilty in seeing Seokmin recoil so visibly, body going tense and eyes widening like she didn’t expect such a reaction. One corner of her mouth curls up nervously.

“O-of course I care, why do you—”

“Yeah, sure.” Seungkwan cuts her off with a scoff.

Seokmin blinks several times, clearly trying to adjust to the situation. Well, good luck to her, since Seungkwan herself doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing. Where all these ugly feelings come from.

“Don’t pretend you'd be happy if we won tomorrow.”

“I would! I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it.”

Seungkwan takes in her wide eyes, looking at her so innocently like she genuinely means everything she’s saying. And a voice inside her head is telling her that it’s true, that Seokmin isn’t lying, because she has no reason to. But Seungkwan can’t— she can’t think straight. Her head is full of images, one flashing after the other in a whirlwind of colors.

Seokmin shaking her hand after their first match back in high school. Seokmin grinning at her from the other side of the net after breaking through her block. Seokmin’s teary face when they almost kissed. Seokmin trying to kiss half of her team right in front of Seungkwan’s eyes.

She is everything Seungkwan ever strived to be. Talented, pretty, good-natured. Seungkwan has been chasing after her for half of her life, and every day the gap between them widens.

But Seungkwan will never be Lee Seokmin.

And she’ll never be enough for Lee Seokmin.

So what’s left for Seungkwan to do but try to break her?

“You can’t stand the idea of anyone thinking you’re not nice, can you?” She’s facing Seokmin now, nails pressing painfully into her own palms. “You really can’t stay a minute without demonstrating how many leagues above me you are.”

Seokmin takes a staggering step back, wincing as if she'd just been slapped. If Seungkwan thought hurting her would bring her any satisfaction, well, she was very wrong.

“I don't do that,” Seokmin says while shaking her head. “I've never—”

“Please. Even now you came looking for me. You're so obsessed with me.”

Even though Seungkwan is the one who's obsessed, isn't she? Seokmin doesn't particularly care about her. She's nice because she's like that with everybody, a kind person by nature. She cheers for Seungkwan and doesn't fear her in the slightest, she doesn't see her as competition.

It's always been one-sided.

And now Seungkwan is doing what she does best, lashing out at those she cares about when the only person she's angry at is herself. For creating a whole rivalry all inside her head, and then for not being able to be honest with her own feelings.

She looks at Seokmin through the haze, heart thundering inside her ears. She looks at her, everything she wants in every sense of the world.

When did the “I want to be her ” Seungkwan has been repeating herself for years become a simple “I want her” ?

Seokmin looks upset, bleached brows pinched and a look Seungkwan has never seen on her face.

“Boo Seungkwan. I don't know what's going on, but you're being a real fucking bitch right now.”

It hurts. It bothers her. Seungkwan's throat feels full, her clothes itchy against her skin like something is swelling inside her.

She doesn't know why she keeps spitting nonsense with a confidence she doesn't have. Nor why she sounds so derisive of Seokmin's words when she rebuts, “Keep telling yourself you don't like that, unnie. When actually you want to kiss me so badly.”

She sounds stupid and her voice is shaking, but where Seungkwan was expecting a slap across her face or Seokmin simply laughing at her delusion and leaving, she instead finds her going scarily calm, something in her features clearing like Seokmin finally came to understand something she was missing. 

She still looks fairly upset, and Seungkwan must be certifiably insane because even like this she finds her gorgeous. The cloud of want expands low in her belly, it sends a twinge between her thighs.

Seokmin takes a breath, staring into Seungkwan’s eyes. Then she says, voice level and face straight, “Took you long enough to notice that.”

Seungkwan is not sure which of them starts it, but not even a moment passes after Seokmin’s words that their mouths are pressed together, warm and urgent. Seungkwan backs her against the wall and Seokmin goes pliantly, her hands skirting up Seungkwan’s arms to tangle in her hair, angling her face to kiss her better.

Seungkwan’s fingers press to Seokmin’s jaw to force her mouth open. Seokmin’s lips part for her tongue and the taste of beer mixes with the artificial sugary one from her lip gloss, tingling the inside of Seungkwan’s mouth. It’s messy, just like Seungkwan’s brain at the moment. Several switches are clicking, different floating pieces of a puzzle finally going to their right places with every second she spends kissing Seokmin.

She presses harder against her warm body, tiptoeing to push her tongue even deeper, and Seokmin tugs her hips flushed to hers. Seungkwan half moans at the contact, at Seokmin’s simultaneous gasp, at the way hands tighten on her waist.

A leg forces itself between Seungkwan’s thighs at the same time Seokmin’s hands slide down to her bottom, curling around it and squeezing with an appreciating little sound. Seungkwan lets herself get lost into it for a moment, allowing Seokmin to guide her hips to grind down on her leg, reveling in the sparks of pleasure spiking through her body.

But as good as it feels, that’s not it. Not now, at least.

What Seungkwan needs now isn’t to feel good, but to get Seokmin to— lose her mind. To get crazy, as insane and addicted as Seungkwan constantly feels about her. She needs to have her at her mercy, hungry for her touch and for anything Seungkwan decides to give her.

She bites down on Seokmin’s bottom lip and lets a hand scrape through her long hair, closing around a lock and tugging it to stop her movements. Seokmin does so with a little whine, hands still on Seungkwan’s ass and hips imperceptibly rolling independently of her will. Her head is tipped back though, and she looks like everything Seungkwan has ever hoped to see.

Dazed, crazy-eyed and absolutely, devastatingly gorgeous.

“Seungkwan…” she pants, a streak of pink gloss smeared across her cheek. “Seung— ah.”

She freezes, lips left ajar, when Seungkwan’s hand sneaks its way under her skirt.

Her fingers skim up the inside of Seokmin’s thigh until they can’t go any higher, and Seungkwan watches carefully Seokmin’s expression shifting, evolving, her eyes going wider and darker the moment she runs her hand over the center of her being.

Seungkwan palms her through the underwear, rubbing tiny circles on the wet spot forming in the middle of it. Her panties are cotton, smooth and simple.

Not that Seungkwan has thought much about it (yes, this is a lie), but Seokmin never striked her as the fancy underwear kind of girl. Lying on her bed while waiting for sleep to come, Seungkwan would never imagine frills or lace on Seokmin, but simple, natural lines and materials, neutral colors. Something almost genderless.

“Seungkwannie,” Seokmin is murmuring while subtly moving against her fingers, asking for more.

The quality of her voice - breathless, a little desperate already - makes Seungkwan’s head spin and she’s onto her again, mouth skating down her jaw, over her throat, while she increases the pressure of her hand. She kisses Seokmin once again to stifle the breathy moan she lets out when Seungkwan’s index and middle fingers slip under the cotton.

Their mouths slide together, Seokmin’s fingers curl around the back of Seungkwan’s hair and knot into her hair. She’s a trembling, panting thing in Seungkwan’s arms. It’s like an out-of-body experience, feeling her like this, feeling the patch of smooth, damp skin under the pad of her fingers.

Her touch is featherlight at first, teasing when Seungkwan is actually just trying to slow down to ground herself, to not lose her mind completely. Then, it’s with more pressure. Seokmin moans and her hips lift into the motion, no sound in the room but her ragged breath.

Seokmin’s mouth goes slack as Seungkwan licks into it, her legs trying to close around Seungkwan’s wrist when fingers slide against her wetness and start rubbing in a circle on her clit.

Seungkwan doesn’t push inside yet. She doesn’t need to. Seokmin is a panting, whining mess as it is, feverishly mumbling Seungkwan’s name between kisses and high-pitched pleads. Seungkwan presses against her core, fingers sliding easily between the wet folds, rubbing against tender skin.

Her palm pressed on Seokmin’s clit, Seungkwan then dips the tip of her middle finger inside her, only up to the first phalange, and Seokmin is coming with a helpless cry, her back arching and her thighs shaking. Seungkwan kisses her through it with a hand tangled into her hair and the other clamped between her legs, feeling her clenching and pulsing around her finger until she slumps in her embrace.

Seungkwan gives her a few moments before removing her hand, the exhilaration quickly leaving space for the realization of what happened to down onto her.

She staggers back, acutely aware of the heat between her own legs, the dampness on her hand. Blood is rushing inside her veins, pulsing in her head.

She shakes her head when Seokmin tries to draw her in by her waist, probably to return the favor. The idea of it happening makes her head spin and her mouth fill with acid at the same time.

“I’m sorry, I… I shouldn’t have…” Seungkwan mutters, gaze trained on the tiled floor. She doesn’t finish her sentence but doesn’t need to, with how Seokmin’s hands instantly drop from her waist as if she was on fire.

Without any other word, Seungkwan turns on her heels and rushes out of the restroom, doing her best to ignore the hurt look on Seokmin’s face.

˚₊˚⊹♡🏐♡⊹˚₊˚

Less than twenty-four hours later, Seungkwan is seated outside the sports hall in her jersey, freshly showered and with her gaze lost in the void.

It’s ironic and well-deserved, how the night that was supposed to calm her down before the match ended up having the complete opposite effect. Seungkwan wouldn’t go as far as to put the entire blame for how the game went on yesterday’s events, but there’s no denying that they affected her mood in some way.

To put it simply, Seungkwan couldn’t stop thinking about it. About how mean she’d been to Seokmin, both before and after pushing her against that wall. About how Seokmin had felt, pliant and wet. Her wanting and grabbing hands, her melodious voice calling her name.

She couldn’t stop thinking about how much she wanted her, and how conflicted that made her feel.

Despite everything, her turmoil didn’t keep her from focusing on the game (she gets obsessive, after all, when she has a goal in mind). She can’t say she played badly. She played hard, maybe too hard.

She lightly sprained an ankle while running to save a ball, threw a small fit when their coach made her sit out half a set. Then she went back on court, scored a lot of points.

And she was feeling so tired, never enough air into her lungs, never a moment to think calmly about the next move. She was feverish, a little insane. But she couldn’t stop, she needed to… smash the ball down on the opposite ground, score another point, was Seokmin in the hall watching her, was she thinking about yesterday, was she watching her now.

In the end, Red Sparks lost.

Seungkwan gave her all, her whole team did. Everyone pushed themselves to their limits, probably even more than Seungkwan had.

But that’s how things are. For a victorious team there must be a losing one, and today was Red Sparks’ turn.

Seungkwan sighs, curling a strand of hair around her finger, the edges still damp from the shower. She’s mad at herself for so many things, but not about todays’ game. They did well, they did all they could.

She can admit it even when the sting of defeat is still so sharp, the wound so fresh. And isn’t that an improvement?

She hears footsteps approaching, and when she turns her head she’s not surprised to see Seokmin. Had the roles been reversed, Seungkwan would have avoided her for days before feeling ready to confront her about being ditched like that. But Seokmin has always been the better person between the two of them.

Seungkwan allows her eyes to take in her figure, too tired and empty to send her away or pretend she doesn’t like what she sees. She’s wearing a white t-shirt tucked in a pair of basic straight jeans that perfectly hug her hips and legs, making her look even taller. It’s a simple look, but Seokmin makes it work, devastating in every aspect.

“I’m not here to fight,” Seokmin announces once within earshot.

“Are you here because you feel sorry for me?” Seungkwan rebuts without any bite.

She moves her gym bag on the floor and Seokmin sits down on the now empty spot beside her.

“In all my life, I’ve never felt sorry for you. And especially not today.”

It’s not as harsh as Seungkwan would deserve, but it’s enough for her to nod her head in understanding. She can take it, she thinks, but then Seokmin is sighing and sliding her hand into hers, and Seungkwan feels something wet trickling down her cheek. She wipes it away with an angry movement, and Seokmin holds her hand tighter.

“This is stupid. I’m not actually that sad about today.”

“I know,” Seokmin replies, easily, nudging her shoulder with hers. “Don’t blame yourself. You did well out there.”

“I was a total mess.”

“You were,” Seokmin chuckles. Seungkwan slides her a half-heated glare. “But you still played well. Besides, I don’t think many noticed.”

“You did.”

Seungkwan watches Seokmin think about what to say in the several seconds of silence that follow. What turn to give to the conversation.

“Well. I’ve been looking at you for many years now,” she says once she seems to have made a decision. And there is a whole world behind those words, behind Seokmin’s gaze. A world Seungkwan knows all too well, because hasn’t she been doing the exact same thing? Aren’t they the person who knows the other best, two slightly different mirror images of each other?

Seungkwan looks away, suddenly fidgety. “Because you want to find more ways to beat me.”

“Oh, Seungkwan.” Seokmin is laughing, fondly exasperated, and it makes Seungkwan blush. “You know, I’m not that competitive of a person.”

And yes, of course Seungkwan knows. Seokmin does her best to win, but she makes it look like she’s mostly in there for a good game, for the fun of it. Just one more thing in which she outclasses Seungkwan.

Seokmin squeezes her hand, a reproach flashing through her eyes for an instant. Reading Seungkwan’s mind once again. 

“I’m not competitive, but you are the only person I always find myself wanting to challenge.”

“There are so many athletes that are better than me,” Seungkwan murmurs reluctantly, her cheeks going warm.

“Oh, that’s true. But it doesn’t matter.”

Again, another thing Seungkwan can perfectly understand. She never thought Seokmin might feel that way as well. She feels her stupid eyes welling up again.

“Why are you trying to cheer me up after I’ve been so terrible to you?”

Silence stretches between them. Seokmin averts her eyes but doesn't leave her hand. She isn't wearing any makeup today, and she made a tiny braid on the right side of her head, making her otherwise simple outfit a tad more feminine. She looks cute. Pretty, with her cheekbones and bridge of her nose painted pink.

"About yesterday…" she starts, but Seungkwan cuts in, suddenly panicking about what could be a gentle rejection.

"I'm sorry I was such a bitch!"

"Yeah, you kind of were." Seokmin smiles and cutely scrunches up her nose. "But everything else that happened… I wanted it. I do like you, you know."

Seokmin slides her fingers in the spaces between Seungkwan's and scoots closer, an eagerness in her features Seungkwan has never seen before. It makes her breath catch in her throat because… because it can't be happening.

“I like how driven and passionate you are, how hard you work, your determination. It pushes me to work harder, you know? And there's always this crazy light in your eyes—”

"Now it sounds like you're describing a psychopath…"

Seokmin laughs, a little breathlessly, and gives her a light push, forehead knocking softly against her shoulder.

"That makes two of us, then. No one ever caught my attention like you did."

"Just admit you admire me as an athlete." Seungkwan stops her again, flustered. She's feeling slower, her brain incapable of catching up with Seokmin's words, with her sparkling eyes and mysterious smile.

"And I like how you pretend to be above anything that surrounds you when you actually care so much. About everything and everyone."

She's so close now that she's basically on Seungkwan's lap. Seungkwan would only need to tilt her head to kiss her.

"Also…" Seokmin keeps going. "It helps that you're really, really hot."

"Wha— Oh."

Seokmin leans back, some semblance of space between them once again, but Seungkwan still finds it hard to breathe. Seokmin is looking quite proud of her stunt (or to have finally rendered Seungkwan speechless), but there's something else, too. She suddenly looks shy as she twirls the little blonde braid around her finger. An unconscious movement, more than a flirty, coy, one. The effect is earth-shattering regardless.

"Do you…" Seokmin starts and then stops, glancing unsurely at Seungkwan. "Do you like me, even just a little?"

Suddenly, every bit of tension leaves Seungkwan’s body. What an incredibly dumb question.

She heaves out a long suffering sigh that sounds fake even to her own ears.

"I feel like I've been haunted by you for half of my life," she grumbles.

Seokmin looks absolutely, stupidly delighted. Her free hand curls around the back of Seungkwan’s head and she closes the distance between them, lips gently touching.

Seungkwan sighs, feeling her shoulders relaxing as a pleasant tingling sensation spreads through the rest of her body. She rests a hand on Seokmin’s waist, crumpling the soft material of her tee between her fingers, and parts her lips, allowing Seokmin to suck on them lightly, slip the tip of her tongue inside.

It’s slow and charged at the same time, probably teetering on the edge of the “inappropriate public behaviors” list. Seungkwan doesn’t care much, closing her eyes and getting lost in it. It’s like slowly getting turned into liquid, the outlines of her body becoming blurred.

Seokmin smells like baby powder and spring flowers, she tastes like sunshine. Her eyes are bright when they break apart (too soon, in Seungkwan’s opinion), her smile wide as she looks down between them, slightly abashed.

Seungkwan follows her gaze to their hands still linked together. They both have nice looking hands, with long and elegant fingers, perfectly manicured nails. They look good together, with Seungkwan’s fair skin pressed against Seokmin’s tanner one.

Seokmin runs the thumb over her knuckles and sighs, “You’ve always had the most beautiful hands.” 

Her cheeks are a bit red, the braid swaying down in front of her face. Seungkwan tucks it back behind her ear, and Seokmin lifts her gaze.

“I think about them a lot,” she confesses. “A whole lot. A concerning amount of “lot”.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Seungkwan sputters and oh, this is bad. A part of her has known it all along, but Lee Seokmin is so, so bad for her health. “God, unnie. You’re so weird.”

Seokmin bites her lip with a mischievous look and doesn’t deny it. She looks proud of herself and disgustingly happy, which Seungkwan supposes is good.

A sudden loud chattering pulls Seungkwan out of their little pink-colored bubble. She feels her brows knitting together when she sees it comes from the team they played against today, the girls coming out of the gym so late because they were probably busy celebrating them advancing to the final match.

“You know what’s funny? The last match is going to be between them and those who kicked you out of the tournament.”

Seokmin makes an indescribable face, like she’s debating on whether to curse or to laugh, and then sets on the latter. Some girls turn to stare at her and a little dog starts barking at the sudden noise. Seungkwan pouts, not finding it that funny (but Seokmin’s laugh is very nice, especially when she is the one who caused it).

“I hope they both lose.”

Seokmin’s laughter dies down a little, just enough for her to drop her forehead on Seungkwan’s shoulder for a moment, still shaking.

“That’s not possible, you silly girl.”

Seungkwan scoffs, ignoring how the appellative makes her feel. “Then I hope they all play so awfully that whoever wins won’t be satisfied about it.”

A few puffs of air against her neck, the tip of Seokmin’s nose brushing against it for a moment, and then she’s pulling back.

“Should we go to the game together and see with our own eyes how bad they’re gonna be?”

Seungkwan just stares at her, at the playful expression on her face, the huge grin.

This person with whom she has shared so many battles over the years, her blueprint for so many things, who she strived to outdo for half her life. This person for whom Seungkwan feels rivalry, sure, but also respect, a sense of kinship. And so many other feelings, way more personal and carnal. 

This person who is gorgeous, crazily so, but also, Seungkwan is starting to realize it only now, might be a little bit silly, in the best meaning of the word.

“Only if it’s a date.” She fights off a smile, trying to sound unaffected. “Is it?”

Seokmin smiles, brighter than the sun.

“It’s a date.”