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Chapter Text

The morning after their arrival in Beijing began like every first tournament morning did: too early, too bright and with Jihoon regretting his own existence. He groaned as he buried his face into and then under the pillow, still half-asleep and haunted by the memory of yesterday’s airport chaos.

He had been following the crowd toward baggage claim, headphones in, eyes glazed from not having slept nearly enough the night before. He had no one else to blame for that besides himself … and maybe Geonwoo, who had kept him awake with live commentary of his own chaotic evening. 

It had all gone wrong for Jihoon when they had left the gate and he had spotted a sign with Chovy on it in big letters. Who could blame him for assuming it was one of the staffers waiting to guide them to their transport?

He had walked right toward it, suitcase in hand, only realizing way too late that it was actually just a fan holding a handwritten cardboard sign. Her big, surprised eyes, the squeal of delight and the quick swarm of cameras that followed would have been funny … if not for the fact that it happened to him and that the video had gone viral within an hour.

Now it was everywhere.

He reached for his phone with a groan and opened his messages. A new text from Hyunjoon greeted him at the top of the screen.

<I swear someone’s gonna kidnap your naive ass. At least you looked adorable in the video, like a lost little puppy.>

Jihoon groaned again, muttering: “No, that would be Minhyung.”, before typing, explaining his behaviour. The answer came promptly. Good to know that he wasn't the only idiot up this early.

<Sure, sure. Maybe next time wear a leash, so the team doesn’t lose you.>

He couldn’t even be mad. His friend was right and Jihoon could already imagine the smug grin on his face when they saw each other next. 

Staying in bed sounded so tempting, but the second key card that had been left for him at the reception burned a hole into his wallet. So he got up and ready, quietly and quickly, doing his best to not wake up Minkyu, still sleeping peacefully in the other bed. 

By the time Jihoon was on his way to Geonwoo’s room, he was at least somewhat awake. 7 in the morning was an ungodly hour, but he would do worse to spend some time with the man that had so quickly become one of the most important people in his life; some last moments of comfort, before tournament reality fully caught up to them.

Fucking hell, when did I become this sappy? 

The door two floors up from his own opened with a startlingly loud beep. He almost expected Geonwoo to still be asleep, but no. He was up, sitting more or less upright against his pillows, phone in hand, looking all soft and inviting. And suddenly Jihoon wanted nothing more than to forget about his schedule and just stay in bed with him all day.

“Morning,” he mumbled, kicking off his shoes. “I hope you had a better night than me.”

“Maybe,” Geonwoo admitted, his voice still rough from sleep. “We were having a very late dinner and then sorted out rooms for the rest of our stay here, because for some reason neither of us thought about doing that earlier.”

Jihoon pulled off his jacket with some effort and dumped it on the unused bed in the room. “Who’s bunking with who?”

“Peanut and Viper, obviously,” Geonwoo said with a cheeky grin that got lost in a yawn. “Those two are practically glued together at the hip. Zeus and Delight wanted to marathon some anime, which means Zeka …” he gestured vaguely toward himself “... gets a room to himself.”

Jihoon frowned. “You get your own room and I’m stuck with Duro?”

Geonwoo tilted his head, expression purposefully innocent. “I mean, you could always stay with me, you know? Sleep here whenever you want. Would you like that?”

It took his sleep-addled brain a moment to sort through those words. The thought of it, of sharing a bed, of sleeping next to each other without the pretense of exhaustion felt … monumental.

“I probably can't stay over all the time or it will get suspicious, but yeah,” Jihoon said quietly. “I think I’d like that a lot.”

Geonwoo’s answering smile was small, as if he had no energy yet for anything more, but it still managed to convey how delighted he was by the idea. “Great, then you can just keep that key card. And now, will you please finally come here so I can kiss you?”

Hours later, after their first official scrim block, Jihoon pushed away from his station, scrolling through social media. The teaser from T1’s Great Wall of China shoot had just gone live and the production was impressive as always. The team looked like they’d been born for the camera and he had to admit, even his derpy hyung looked kind of epic.

Jihoon knew how much his friends had dreaded that freezing, exhausting day, but damn had it paid off. He opened a chat and typed a quick message to Hyunjoon: 

<The video looks incredible. You’ll get sick in that weather though, I bet. Try to take care of yourself … and that jungler of yours.>

The little read notification appeared almost instantly, but there was no response to his teasing. Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head. Typical. 

Gen.G decided to watch the all important Play-ins series together, spread out over the room and deeply entertained by the insanity happening on screen. Afterwards, still boggling at that disastrous Rek’Sai dive from the first game, Jihoon tapped on Minhyung’s name in his contacts.

<Good job! Those Ashe arrows were clean. Guess you get to stay a little longer.>

The reply came barely a minute later; a sticker of a happy dog with his tail wagging, followed by a sleepy one. Jihoon couldn’t help chuckling at the screen. 

It might come back to bite us in the butt, but World's without T1 wouldn't have felt the same. 

The last thing happening that day was the draw, the decider who would play against who in the first proper round of the tournament. Gen.G got paired with one of the arguably easiest opponents, PSG, while Hanwha Life was set to face Anyone's Legend. When Jihoon came to Geonwoo’s room late that night, the draw results were still their topic number one while they got ready for bed.

“I respect Maple and his team, but they really don't compare to Shanks or Tarzan.” Geonwoo groaned as he brushed his teeth. “Why does it feel like we got opposite extremes?”

Jihoon snorted around his toothbrush. “Because we kind of did,” he said, nearly choking on the foam in his mouth at the sight of Geonwoo’s exaggerated pout.

Once they returned from the bathroom, they awkwardly stood in front of the twin beds for a moment. Geonwoo half turned to him, suddenly uncharacteristically serious, sounding almost a little shy. “We’re sharing, right?”

Jihoon’s eyebrows rose to his hairline in surprise. “Did you really just ask that?”

Geonwoo bumped his shoulder against him. “In case you didn’t notice, we’ve never actually just gone to bed together before. Without, you know, doing other things first. I don’t even know if you wear pajamas or sleep naked or-”

“I sleep like this,” Jihoon interrupted, amusement evident in his voice, gesturing towards his t-shirt and boxers. “Sorry if you expected something cuter.”

Geonwoo rolled his eyes, though his expression softened. “You’re ridiculous.”

“As far as I know, I don’t snore or sleepwalk or anything like that and I prefer the left side of the bed,” Jihoon continued, deliberately matter-of-fact, but grinning. “I’d also love to be hugged and use you as my pillow. Any other burning questions?”

Geonwoo just shook his head fondly as he grabbed Jihoon’s hand and pulled him toward the bed. The gesture seemed confident again, until Jihoon realized that Geonwoo’s pulse was still fluttering under his fingertips.

They climbed into the bed closer to the window, blankets rustling as Geonwoo switched the lights off and then basically manhandled a chuckling Jihoon into place. When they finally stilled, Geonwoo was lying on his back, Jihoon half-draped over him, their legs tangled together.

“Sorry, kitten,” Geonwoo murmured, nuzzling into his hair. “I always get a bit anxious at the start of big tournaments, I should be back to normal soon.”

Jihoon smiled against his chest. “Don’t say sorry. I’m the opposite. I get more restless later. We’ll balance each other out.”

Geonwoo’s arm tightened slightly around him, his fingers brushing lazily over Jihoon’s side, dipping under the fabric for skin contact every now and then. “Sounds nice.”

They lay there, just enjoying the quiet for a while until Jihoon tilted his head up, pressing a soft kiss to Geonwoo’s jaw.

“Good night and sleep well,” he whispered.

“You too,” Geonwoo replied, his voice barely audible.

It took them mere minutes to fall asleep. Memories of intense strategy talks and all future worries finally overridden by the comfort they found in each other. 

Chapter Text

The first day of Swiss Stage blurred past in a haze of roaring crowds, flashing lights and adrenaline that refused to fade even after the enemy Nexus fell. Jihoon’s match had been an easy win, him and his teammates working together like a well oiled machine, every call landing exactly as planned. HLE on the other hand had thrown away a promising early game, their coordination cracking under pressure and ultimately ended up losing.

“You really didn’t buy Tear?” Jihoon teased later, when they came across each other in the backstage area, voice full of amused disbelief. Geonwoo groaned, but his lips still twitched into a small smile. “There was an idea, okay? It obviously didn’t work. You won't let this go, will you?”

“Not a chance! I’ll put it on T-shirts and sell those. Limited edition.” Jihoon’s bright laugh bounced off the walls, the kind of sound Geownoo couldn't get enough of. 

“Go ahead,” he said dryly, slumping back against the wall in mock defeat. “At least someone will profit from my humiliation.”

“Oh, don’t tempt me.” 

Jihoon gave him one last smile as he turned to leave, regretting that the still busy hallway made a kiss or even just a touch inadvisable. Hopefully, it had been obvious enough how happy that little meeting had made him. He couldn't remember ever feeling this light after a tournament had started. 

People called him a League robot only interested in winning, he was aware of that. And he couldn't even fully deny it, the need to finally win Worlds blazed hot in him, but …

Jihoon smirked as he rounded another corner on the way back to his team, imagining how those same people might react if they knew that a second flame, Geonwoo’s stable warmth, now tempered that raging wildfire.

He was no longer in danger of burning out and that only made him more dangerous. They wanted more emotions? Well, he was brimming with them now and they were going to regret that wish. 

The door to Geonwoo’s hotel room opened and he almost laughed at how ridiculously fast he got up from his bed to greet the only other person with a key card. 

He really has me completely wrapped around his little finger, does he know that?

Noticing the grumpy look on the handsome face, he asked: “Everything alright?” 

Jihoon’s expression brightened at hearing his voice, shaking his head as if to physically get rid of the thoughts bothering him. “Yes, sorry! I’ve seen some players exchange jerseys earlier … and it made me think that I’d really love to see you in mine. Can't get it out of my head.”

Geonwoo froze mid-step, swallowing hard as images flashed through his mind. That damn jersey had already featured in many of his fantasies, but not like this. Jihoon’s jersey stretched across his shoulders, Jihoon’s name on his back, Jihoon looking at him with possessive hunger. 

“That’s what you’re sulking about?” Geonwoo chuckled, as he finished crossing the distance between them

Jihoon shot him a playful glare as he finished taking off his shoes and jacket, cheeks a little pink. “It’s not funny, I’d actually love to see you wear it.”

The weight in his voice made Geonwoo pause. He had thought Jihoon was just teasing, but no, there was something real there.

His arms looped around his waist, pulling him back against his chest. Jihoon stiffened for a second, but Geonwoo’s warmth seeped in quickly, melting the tension out of him.

“Your jersey doesn't fit me, but maybe I can make it up to you?” Geonwoo murmured, voice velvety. His lips brushed along the soft skin just below Jihoon’s ear, before dragging his teeth ever so gently down the curve of his neck.

“How does it sound,” he whispered, “if I get rid of all this fabric between us and ravage you instead?” He bit down.

Jihoon gasped, hands tightening on Geonwoo’s forearms. His breath hitched again when the mouth traveled lower, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the column of his throat, nipping here and there just enough to make him shiver.

“Geonwoo …” Jihoon’s voice cracked into a moan, his head falling back onto Geonwoo’s shoulder, giving him even more access.

“That’s better,” Geonwoo practically purred, lips brushing just below Jihoon’s jaw. “Already so responsive. I barely touched you.”

He pressed Jihoon tighter against him, making sure he could feel exactly what effect he was having on him. Jihoon squirmed, a desperate little sound escaping his throat and Geonwoo smiled against his skin.

“I’ll let you cover me in marks, all over my body,” Geonwoo promised softly, sucking at the spot above Jihoon’s collarbone until a flush of red bloomed there. “Everyone will see, everyone will know I’m yours. They don’t need a jersey with your name on it for that.”

Jihoon whimpered, his pout from earlier dissolving into breathless need as his hands gripped at Geonwoo’s, trying to anchor himself. 

Geonwoo chuckled low, satisfied. “Mmm, I think my kitten likes that idea. Shall we keep going?”

The only answer he got was a desperate nod, another helpless moan and Jihoon pressing back against the solid heat behind him, like he wanted to fuse them together.

Jihoon’s thighs trembled where they bracketed Geonwoo’s hips, the lazy rhythm of their bodies enough to keep his breath short, his skin hot. He could still taste the salt on his lips from where he’d kissed down Geonwoo’s chest earlier. His jaw ached a little from biting, sucking, marking him the way he had been promised he could. 

Red now adorned strong shoulders, the base of his throat, his chest - everywhere Jihoon’s mouth could reach, he had claimed. And where it couldn’t he had left trails with his nails.

Geonwoo leaned back against the couch, hair mussed, muscles tensing with every shallow thrust up into Jihoon’s body. His hands were firm on his waist, guiding the slow movements, keeping them steady and slow, dragging the pleasure out until Jihoon felt drunk on it.

Then something caught Geonwoo’s attention out of the corner of his eye. A thought struck him, sudden and electric and before Jihoon could question the shift in his expression, he reached over to the side table to grab the marker he had left there, after signing some merch earlier and pressed it into Jihoon’s hand.

Jihoon stilled and blinked down at it, confused. “What-?”

Geonwoo tapped his chest, just over his racing heart. “Put your name here!” His voice was rough with arousal, but his eyes held Jihoon’s without wavering. “Claim me. Mark me.”

Jihoon stared at the expanse of bare skin, then back up. “Are you serious?” For a second he really thought Geonwoo was just teasing, but the other man didn’t laugh, didn’t even smirk. He just looked up at him, breathing hard. “I’ve never been more serious.”

The air between them seemed to thicken. Jihoon’s lips parted and then, with a shaky breath, he clicked the marker open and pressed the tip to Geonwoo’s chest.

The first stroke came shaky, sweat making it drag, but letter by letter, looping and curling, his name bloomed across Geonwoo’s chest in bold black lines. 

Done, he capped the marker, unable to look away, hypnotized by the sight of his messy signature stark against flushed skin.

Geonwoo lifted his hand to Jihoon’s chin, tilting it up, so their eyes could meet again. “See?” he whispered, the softness of his tone belying the intensity in his gaze. “No jersey needed. I’m yours.”

Jihoon’s throat worked, but no words came. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think past that singular moment. An awed smile tugged at his lips as he bent down, as he pressed his mouth against the scrawl of Chovy across Geonwoo’s chest in a featherlight kiss. The man under him shuddered, head falling back, every muscle in his body tight with restraint. 

Something primal thrummed in Jihoon’s veins and before he made the conscious choice, his body was moving again, hips rising and falling faster than before, harder, grinding down like he was possessed. Every move made the signature shift over flexing muscle.

Geonwoo’s hands held onto his waist, moans slipping out at the sudden urgency. “God, you’re so hot when you get like this, all- ”

Jihoon cut him off, pupils blown, voice sharp with want. “You’re mine, right?”

Geonwoo froze for half a beat, then nodded, jaw tight. 

Jihoon’s lips curled into a wicked grin. “So you’ll do what I want, correct?”

“Yes, always.”

“Then move!” Jihoon growled, speeding up despite the burn in his thighs, making Geonwoo gasp. “Fuck me like you mean it!”

Geonwoo’s hips snapped up to meet Jihoon’s frantic rhythm, pulling him into a hungry kiss, as though there was no such thing as close enough, moans muffled against lips. But even lost in sensation, Jihoon’s eyes kept flickering down, drawn helplessly back to Chovy written there, feeling his own release built fast and sharp.

Geonwoo’s voice broke on a groan. “Kitten- ”

Jihoon gasped, clenching tight around him and Geonwoo thrust once, twice more, before spilling deep inside him with a strangled sound, hips stuttering against him. He wrapped his hand around the leaking cock between their bellies and a few strokes was all it took for Jihoon to follow him over the edge, streaking warmth across Geonwoo’s chest - right over that damn signature.

Still panting, Jihoon brushed trembling fingers through sweat and ink and cum, smearing the mess until his hand pressed flat over Geonwoo’s pounding heart. He leaned down to kiss him again, whispering “Mine!” against his lips with each breathless press of their mouths. 

Geonwoo let his head fall against the backrest of the couch, exhausted and utterly undone. “Yours.” 

A shaky laugh escaped him. “And I swear, the second we get home, I’m getting a jersey with your name on it. I’ll wear it everywhere and confuse the fuck out of people. You’ll see!” 

Jihoon’s lips curved into a lazy, satisfied smile as Geonwoo pushed sweat-tangled hair from his forehead. “For now, though, we need a shower. I’m a mess.”

Jihoon hummed, dragging his palm across the slickness on Geonwoo’s chest, before pressing their bodies even closer together. “My mess.” 

Geonwoo barked out a disbelieving laugh, a little disgusted, mostly delighted, shoving lightly at his side. “You’re the worst.”

The only answer he got was a smirk and teeth on his neck. Geonwoo tried to sound firm, but he just couldn’t keep stop grinning. “Shower! Now!”

Jihoon only chuckled, refusing to move quite yet, perfectly content to bask in the feeling of Geonwoo still inside of him and the sight of his smeared name, right where it belonged.

Chapter Text

Getting up early wasn't Geonwoo's favourite thing in the world, but at least it had allowed them to lounge in bed for a bit, before they had to leave. He let the bathroom door click shut and yawned. From outside came the muted sounds of Jihoon getting ready for the day ahead.

He stepped toward the mirror, his reflection showing that last night's shower had done its job well, maybe a little too well. All that remained were the the bruises blooming in purple and red across his chest, collarbones, and shoulders.

He had laughed at Jihoon's possessive request for him to wear his jersey, turned it into a game, thinking it nothing more than a whim. But now, seeing these marks, he wasn't so sure anymore. 

Leaning closer, he searched his chest for the fading scrawl of Jihoon’s name. Only a faint gray smudge remained, where Chovy had declared ownership. It was almost gone.

An unexpected ache stirred in his gut. He hadn’t really wanted it to fade. He would have liked to carry it a little longer, inked over his heart like a brand, a reminder of Jihoon’s repeated claim. Mine. That single word over and over and over again.

He was supposed to be the one in control, the dominant part of their relationship, the one who promised delicious ruin. But Jihoon, with wild eyes and unsteady pen strokes, had reversed everything. He had been the one that felt ruined instead.

And it made him feel exposed, fragile in a way that frightened him a little, because he was supposed to be the one that provided the safety net, not the one that needed it. 

He met his own gaze in the mirror. His eyes looked more serious than usual, darker. His own possessiveness surprised him as well, urging him to walk back out there, press Jihoon against the wall or floor or bed or really any surface and leave a mark that wouldn’t wash away. He couldn't remember ever feeling this way about a partner, but then again … none of them had been quite like Jihoon.

For all his brilliance and cool public persona, Jihoon was shockingly sensitive under the confident veneer of the star player. He needed Geonwoo’s steadiness, not this confusing hunger. What they had was still so new, so untested and just the thought of failing him hurt.

Can I be both for him, Dom and partner?

He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply once more and let the tension ebb away. Perfection wasn’t the goal, constancy and communication was. Jihoon had chosen him and that meant he would reward that trust with devotion and care.

“We’ll manage,” he murmured, the words a quiet promise to himself and to the man who had become so important to him. He would be what Jihoon needed him to be.

That day, the tables turned.

Gen.G stumbled in their match against AL; an upset no one saw coming. The loss left Jihoon tight-jawed and silent through the post-game review. HLE on the other hand had found their stride, defeating their opponent with surgical precision.

When they finally crashed into bed that night, exhaustion clinging to every muscle, it was Geonwoo’s turn to wear the smirk as he pulled out his phone to text Jihoon.

   rough day, jihoonie?

 don’t start!

    wouldn’t dream of it

sure... 

    we both fought the same teams now
feels like fate’s got a sense of humor

yeah, let’s just hope fate or the whoever's pulling names, doesn’t throw us against each other next

    come on, that would be fun

would it?

    of course!
you know I love playing against you
maybe I’d even go easy on you

try it and I’ll make sure you never live that down either
don’t you dare ever go easy on me

    wouldn't dream of it, kitten!

Minkyu watched Jihoon from his own bed. He was a little confused why his midlaner seemed so damn cheerful despite their loss, but he wasn't going to ask. Just like he wouldn’t ask where exactly he had disappeared to the night before. 

They had forgotten to close the curtains properly, so Jihoon woke up to blinding stripes of morning light. He yawned and stretched, joints popping, one arm reaching blindly for his phone. His mind was still sluggish, but already replaying the games from the days before, the emotional pendulum of winning and losing. Minkyu had already left, so he felt safe to invite Geonwoo to stop by on his way to the gym.


It had been shockingly easy between them since they arrived in China, comfortable, almost domestic in its own strange rhythm. Jihoon had never imagined that he’d enjoy the company of a single person in his daily life so much. He had always thought relationships and dating were for his old friends from school, "normal" people that didn’t play games for a living, but maybe he had been wrong.

He was mid-stretch, leaning back against Geonwoo's chest, who was sitting behind him on the bed, when he heard: “I hope Driver is down at the gym again.”

The words were relaxed, tossed out casually, but something in Jihoon’s brain snagged on them. “… Driver?”

“Yeah, CFO’s toplaner. Tsunghua.” Geonwoo said without moving his head from where it rested against Jihoon’s shoulder, eyes closed peacefully. “He’s actually great, really motivated. Doesn’t waste time talking, just gets to work. Makes me want to push harder.” 

Jihoon was aware that the younger player looked up to Geonwoo. It was a bit of a running joke after Driver had said in an interview that he wanted to show Zeka his muscles. He had laughed along when people mentioned it, brushed it off as harmless, cute even … back before it mattered. 

But hearing it now, knowing that Geonwoo was spending early mornings with him, sweating side by side, spotting him through reps - it twisted unpleasantly in his stomach. He forced his voice into something light. “Didn’t realize you were mentoring now.”

Geonwoo looked up, blinking in confusion. “Mentor? Nah, he’s just fun.” That one landed worse. Jihoon’s jaw tensed, the word echoing in his mind. Fun. He pulled away from the comfortable embrace, scooting off the bed. “Must be nice, having a fanboy for motivation.”

Geonwoo laughed, soft and completely unbothered. “It’s not like that. He’s just easy to be around.” He got up as well, stretching his arms over his head. “You should come some time. Or even better, why not come today?”

“Mmh, maybe.”

“Think about it.” Geonwoo slung his bag over his shoulder and pressed a quick kiss to Jihoon’s check. “You know where to find me.”

The door clicked shut with quiet finality and the silence that followed contrasted with the noise in Jihoon’s head

“He’s actually great, really motivated.” 
“Makes me want to push harder.”
“He’s just easy to be around.”

He was supposed to be getting ready for another day of scrims and media duties, but this now sat heavily in his mind. Geonwoo in the gym with that pleased, small smile. Someone happy and bright beside him, laughing, keeping pace. It was so easy for Jihoon to imagine and he hates it.

He exhaled hard and sat back down on the bed, scowling at the floor.  “This is stupid,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re not twelve.”

But the flicker of jealousy just wouldn’t die. It was a strange, foreign feeling in his chest. He had never minded before, had listened to stories about or from Minhyung and Seonghoon with amusement, maybe even curiosity. 

So why does this suddenly bother me so much?

If he was being fully honest with himself, the answer was obvious: Driver was simple.

It wasn’t hard to see how that could be pleasant; eager eyes, quick laughter, the kind of uncomplicated admiration Geonwoo deserved. That’s why it stung. Because Jihoon knew that he was a lot of things, but simple wasn’t one of them. He was work - layers of emotions, of ambition and pride. 

He tried shaking it off, tried to remind himself that Geonwoo chose him, but doubt had a way of rooting itself deep. 

Jihoon thought of the day before and how overwhelming it had been to see his claim in black ink on pale skin. Possessiveness had never been one of his vices. It wasn’t a good trait for someone that lived in dorm and hotel rooms that weren’t really his, spend most of his time wearing clothes he didn’t pick out and whose meaningful connections to team mates could easily be disrupted by roster changes.

It felt a bit ironic that handing over control to Geonwoo of all things, would somehow trigger this urge to own and claim and mark, but it sure felt like that was exactly what had happened. Jihoon had no interest in flipping their roles, but he wanted to be the only one his Dom saw.

He stood abruptly, choice made. If he didn’t go, he’d just waste his time picturing Geonwoo spotting the other player, patient and smiling, the easy rhythm of two people who didn’t need to say much to understand each other.

He clenched his jaw. “This is ridiculous.” The room gave him nothing in return.

Jihoon’s eyes caught on something still folded neatly in his open suitcase, a flash of dark fabric. The compression shirt Geonwoo had given him months ago as a thoughtful gift. Something to keep him grounded when life or matches got rough. It had managed to do just that often by now; its gentle pressure tightening around his chest and shoulders, pulling him back into his body. He put it on, breathing a little easier as the fabric hugged close. 

Gym appropriate, calms me and has the nice side effect that I look good in it. But what did Minhyung say again? Wear something of his to drive him crazy?

His lips twitched into a small smile as he remembered that particular conversation. Jihoon crossed the room to his half-filled side of the wardrobe, looking through the still neatly stacked items of clothing until his hand found the dark blue hoodie he had swiped, because he loved seeing it on Geonwoo.

Well, hopefully he’ll love it on me as well.

Jihoon pulled it over his head. It was only a little long on him, but it was loose and the sleeves swallowed his hands. What he saw in the mirror when he turned towards it, made him pause. Control layered with comfort. His chaos wrapped in Geonwoo’s steadiness.

“Let’s see,” he muttered, tilting his head at his reflection, “how you’ll react to this and what this workout partner of yours is all about.”

The smile on Jihoon’s face had turned into a proper grin by now, edged with mischief. He wasn’t going down to the gym to fight for attention. He was simply going to remind Geonwoo where exactly that attention belonged.

Chapter Text

The hotel gym opened at six sharp and Tsunghua was already there by six-oh-five.

He liked mornings or rather, he liked that nobody else did. The gym was nice and quiet at this time of the day and everything still smelled a little of the lemon-scented cleaner staff used to wipe down the machines before closing.

He started his usual warm-up routine: treadmill first at a steady pace, his shoes thudding on the belt. A TV mounted on the wall above played a muted news channel with English subtitles he couldn’t read fast enough to follow. That was fine. He wasn’t there to exercise his brain.

By the time he moved to weights, the elevator gave its slow chime and Geonwoo stepped out.

Tsunghua was really glad that they got to spend some time together during this tournament. The Korean was the perfect gym partner and just the kind of person who carried his own sunlight into any room.

“Morning! You’re early,” Geonwoo said in a tone that sounded like they were old friends that hadn’t seen each other in months, not new acquaintances that had worked out together yesterday.

Tsunghua grinned back, one earbud still in. “You’re late.”

“Ah- ” Geonwoo made a face, then shrugged. “Traffic?”

“In elevator?”

That earned a proper laugh. “Okay, okay.”

They settled into their rhythm easily, switching between sets, spotting for each other. And even though their communication was half-mime, half-English, Tsunghua really enjoyed training with him. They understood each other well enough through nods, gestures and shared exhaustion.

It stayed that way for a while, then the elevator dinged again.

When Tsunghua glanced over, he saw Chovy enter; definitely an unexpected surprise. Gen.G’s midlaner didn’t exactly strike him as a gym regular. When Geonwoo spotted him he lit up and called out to him in fast Korean.

Chovy raised a hand in response, a small smile tugging at his mouth. His hoodie hung loose on his slender frame and it looked suspiciously like one Tsunghua remembered Geonwoo wearing a couple days ago. That detail clearly didn’t escape the original owner either and his expression softened into something ridiculously fond.

Tsunghua tried not to roll his eyes.

Chovy hovered near the mats, moving in that awkward, aimless way people did when they weren’t sure what to do with themselves in a gym. His gaze kept shifting toward them, following Geonwoo’s movements. Subtle, if you were blind. Painfully obvious, if you weren’t.

Geonwoo seemed to feel the attention too. His moves got a little cleaner, his posture straighter. He couldn’t wipe that grin off his face and he even flexed once between sets, pretending it was part of a stretch.

Tsunghua pretended not to notice, but inwardly he laughed at this K-drama scene he had somehow ended up in. He tried focusing on his own workout, but the mirror in front of him betrayed everything: Geonwoo sneaking glances between reps, Chovy watching from the side.

And then came the real show.

Midway through his circuit, Chovy tugged the hoodie off, slow and casual. Underneath, he was wearing a black compression shirt - the kind that clung to every muscle, accentuated every line, looked almost painted on.

Geonwoo’s reaction was instant. His grip on the bar wavered, breath catching halfway through an exhale. Tsunghua had to step in and steady the weight before it came down crooked. “Focus,” he deadpanned.

Geonwoo blinked. “Ah, yeah. Sorry.”

“You lose arm, not just sorry.”

Geonwoo laughed, cheeks pink, eyes darting sideways again. Chovy was pretending to stretch, but there was the tiniest satisfied curve at the corner of his mouth. It was almost impressive, really. He clearly wasn’t a regular gym goer - his form was all over the place - but he carried himself with the kind of confidence that almost made you overlook his inexperience.

Between sets, Tsunghua caught Chovy’s eye once. The man gave him a polite nod, the kind of neutral-courteous expression that almost hid the faint antagonism behind it. Not overt hostility, just an unspoken “I see you, don’t get any ideas.”

Tsunghua almost smiled. He didn’t have any ideas, but he found the situation hilarious; the way both of them were so busy pretending not to perform for each other that it became the only thing both of them were doing.

Geonwoo tried to act casual, but his attention had clearly long since left the weights. His eyes followed automatically whenever Chovy changed machines or stretched his arms. The soft smile he had worn earlier had turned into something more intense, bordering on hungry. Tsunghua was honestly surprised that the gentle man could even look that way.

Chovy noticed, too. And although he didn’t really react outwardly, something about his expression just screamed pleased. 

They finished their set with Geonwoo’s focus scattered all over the place and Tsunghua purposefully didn’t comment or tease. Everyone was entitled to a little delusion about being subtle. Plus, it really wasn’t his business if his training partner’s brain short-circuited over a rival midlaner. Making such a relationship work couldn’t be easy.

Tsunghua decided that he needed a break from the sexual tension. He grabbed his towel, sat down on one of the benches near the water cooler and started scrolling through his phone, trying not to grin too obviously.

A few minutes passed. He didn’t turn around when he heard the soft murmur of Korean words exchanged somewhere behind him. When he finally stood to properly re-rack his weights, he realized the gym had gone quiet.

No Chovy. No Geonwoo.

Tsunghua let out a small chuckle, when his ears registered the sound of rushing water from the locker room. He’d definitely shower in his own room today.

Geonwoo’s restraint had completely evaporated. He practically dragged Jihoon into the empty changing room, pushing their bags into a random locker and crowding him against it right after. 

“I fear going to the gym together was a terrible idea,” he murmured, eyes dark with desire. “When I see you prancing around like that, first in my hoodie and then this damn shirt, all I want is to fuck you against a wall.”

Jihoon looked caught off guard, but definitely not displeased. “... you mean now?”

Geonwoo’s smirk was feral as he pressed closer. “I mean now.”

Steam hung thick in the gym showers, a dense, swirling cloud of heat and humidity; the water loud against the tiled walls and floors. Geonwoo grabbed Jihoon’s wrist with a force that went a bit beyond playful and dragged him into an empty cubicle at the far end of the room, away from the already running showers, pulling the curtain close behind them. 

Geonwoo had let him shed most of his clothes while he undressed himself, but Jihoon was still wearing the compression shirt and his underwear. They were both dripping wet in seconds once Geonwoo turned the shower handle. Jihoon thanked every deity that the water came out warm, an ice cold deluge would have certainly put a quick end to whatever was about to happen. 

Geonwoo’s hands immediately went to Jihoon’s shorts, fingertips dipping teasingly under the waistband. Jihoon laughed as he scrambled to help, intending to finally peel off the now wet shirt, but Geonwoo stopped him.

"Leave it on," he ordered, his voice rough and at least half an octave deeper than normal. He practically ripped Jihoon’s soaked underwear down, freeing his hardening cock. The fabric landed on the ground with a wet thud.

"But I won't get clean that way," Jihoon gasped, already a little dizzy from the wet heat and the haste.

Geonwoo didn't react. He spun him around, pressing his chest against the cool tile of the wall. Jihoon managed to catch himself easily, but the impact still pushed some of the air from his lungs. "Don't care, we can properly clean up later. I need you like this."

Geonwoo stepped close enough that their bodies touched in one long, continuous line. His own erection pressed urgently against the curve of Jihoon's ass. Water by itself wasn't exactly great at making things slippery, but that's what soap was for, right?

Jihoon gasped when the slick head of Geonwoo’s cock pressed between his legs, sliding against his balls and the underside of his own length. A single finger pressed against his mouth, almost like a parody of the legendary faker pose, signaling him to not make a sound. 

Two fingers pressed between his lips as Geonwoo started moving his hips. A slow drag that send shivers down Jihoon's spine and made him whine and moan around the digits playing with his tongue.

"You need to be quiet, Jihoonie. Let me help you," Geonwoo rasped, voice low and full of heat as his hand pulled away and instead clamped down tight over Jihoon’s mouth, catching any sound he might make.  

Geonwoo pressed close, rutting against Jihoon, letting his hips grind against his slippery thighs. "Or do you want them to hear?" he whispered into Jihoon’s ear, lips brushing his neck, sparking goosebumps despite the warmth. "Want everyone here to know how good and needy and sexy you sound … and all mine?"

Jihoon’s hands clawed against the wet tile, heart hammering, cheeks flushed. The thrill of potentially being caught, the warm water and slick slide of skin against skin, it made every last one of his nerves sing. Geonwoo’s free hand roamed over Jihoon’s chest, pinching his nipples till they hardened beneath the wet fabric. 

Satisfied, his fingers slid down lower, cupping Jihoon's balls and making his breath hitch. Geonwoo started stroking his cock in coordination with the deep, relentless rhythm of his hips.

He let himself rut harder, each motion meant to make the other man squirm and whimper. "So fucking perfect," Geonwoo muttered, almost growling, his mouth brushing Jihoon’s ear, neck, jaw, shoulder. "Want to say something or will you just let me use those lovely thighs of yours?"

Jihoon shook his head, muffled whines escaping, arousal rushing through him despite … or maybe because of the slight fear of being overheard. The hand over his mouth, the grip on his cock and the grinding against him made him lose all coherent thought except a raw, frantic more more more. He pushed his hips back, meeting every thrust.

Geonwoo’s own breath hitched, dark and ragged. "God … you drive me insane," he hissed as his movements became sharper, more insistent.

"You move those hips like you're begging to get fucked for real, Kitten," Geonwoo whispered harshly, teeth grazing Jihoon's neck. "You love this, don’t you? You don't even care that we're in public."

Jihoon’s didn't, couldn't answer. He moved entirely on instinct, seeking friction and release, his whole body trembling.

“Wish I could do this properly, spread you open with my fingers, maybe with my tongue, get you ready for my cock, fuck you till you won't be able to sit still for days, make you sing, but ... later!”

Geonwoo drove them both to the edge, his hips snapping relentlessly, his hand never stopping the matching rhythm he set on Jihoon's cock. 

With a guttural groan, Geonwoo thrust one last time between his thighs, body tensing as his orgasm washed over him. He didn't stop moving hand nor hips until he felt Jihoon tense as well, moaning his release against his palm.

The water still ran hot against their skin, steam curling through the air as if trying to hide them from the world. Jihoon pressed his palms flat to the cool tile to anchor himself as the last of the adrenaline bled out of him with every slow exhale. 

He stood there feeling boneless, chest heaving, head bowed, water dripping from his hair in steady rivulets. Geonwoo stayed close, so close Jihoon could feel every heartbeat against his spine, even through that damn shirt. One of Geonwoo’s hands rested over Jihoon’s stomach, the other at his hip, thumb moving in slow, grounding lines. 

The sound of the shower filled the silence between them, mingling with their uneven breaths. Jihoon’s pulse began to calm, though his body still trembled a little from the aftershocks.

“… I was jealous,” he said finally, the words small, almost lost beneath the water.

Geonwoo tensed for a moment. “… jealous?”

Jihoon nodded. His face was flushed from heat or embarrassment - probably both. “Of Driver,” he admitted, voice a little rough, but he kept going. “He looks at you like you hung the moon. And it seems like you’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, I just …” He trailed off, inhaled, exhaled. “I thought maybe you liked the attention.”

For a second, Geonwoo didn’t move. Then he let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “He could walk around fully naked,” he murmured, leaning forward until his lips brushed Jihoon’s damp neck. “And I would still only think of you, kitten.”

Jihoon closed his eyes and could feel his heartbeat slowing, matching Geonwoo’s rhythm. The jealousy hadn’t been huge, but it had been there and saying it out loud left him lighter. 

“Next time you feel that way, just tell me, so I can clear up any confusion. I’d rather hear about your jealousy than see you go quiet.” Geonwoo’s lips trailed along Jihoon’s temple, down to the edge of his jaw, a slow series of kisses that was more reassurance than heat. 

Jihoon gave a short laugh. “You would probably find that hot, right?”

Geonwoo chuckled against his skin. “Maybe,” he admitted. “I like that you care. I just don’t want you to actually think that you have to compete with anyone.”

Jihoon’s throat tightened at that and he turned in the embrace to properly see his face. Geonwoo’s hair was plastered to his forehead, droplets catching the light as they slid down his jaw, eyes dark and full of affection. 

“You mean that?” Jihoon asked quietly.

Geonwoo’s smile was slow and sure. “Every word. There’s only one person I want.”

Jihoon snorted, more than a little flustered. “You always say those things like they are obvious.”

Geonwoo just hummed, pressing kisses along Jihoon’s jaw line, on the beauty marks below his eyes, then on his lips. The tension finally broke fully. 

For a long while, they didn’t move, just stood there leaning into each other, sharing lazy kisses. Jihoon’s fingers found Geonwoo’s and threaded through them, squeezing once and holding on.

The water still cascaded over both of them, washing away everything that didn’t matter - the mess, the sweat, the jealousy, the competition, the noise of the world outside.

“Can I now take this thing off?”

“Of course, sorry for that! You just looked so good, I couldn't resist.”

“You can make up for it by helping me out of it, not sure I have any strength left.”

“Anything!”

Chapter Text

The next day of groups started quietly - no chaos, no crazy coin flips, just clean, efficient games. HLE played like a machine, their win against 100Thieves a display of crisp execution and talent in the fastest match of the tournament so far. Geonwoo looked composed on stage, unbothered, the kind of calm that made a win feel inevitable.

Gen.G followed later in the day, their own match against T1 framed as the marquee of the evening. But what was supposed to be a clash of titans never quite landed that way. T1’s draft raised eyebrows before the game even began. By the end, Gen.G had dismantled them in under thirty minutes, a clinical performance that left the analysts scrambling for polite words.

“What were they thinking?” Jihoon said as he dropped onto the bed hours later, scrolling through the post-game threads. “That draft made zero sense, not to mention the execution.”

Across the room, Geonwoo changed into more comfortable clothing to wind down for the night. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Hyunjoon-hyung looked off as well. Something’s weird with them lately.”

Jihoon snorted. “Weird’s one way to put it.” He tossed his phone aside and turned toward Geonwoo. “Why would they pick Kai’Sa for Minhyung and then not play around him, when there were so many other options? Like … why experiment now?”

Geonwoo gave a small shrug, his expression unreadable. “Maybe they’re trying to hide strats. Or maybe someone’s overthinking stuff?”

“I mean, we got a win out of it, so I shouldn’t complain, but something still feels off,” Jihoon murmured.

A few seconds later, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. An answer from Minhyung to Seonghoon’s earlier question in their group chat, about whether he was ok.

<The day could’ve gone better, but worlds overall has been pretty … fun so far>

Jihoon stared at the cryptic reply a moment longer, thumb hovering over the screen, before setting the phone down beside him. The room was quiet, a welcome change from the chaos and noise they were surrounded by all day.

When he looked up, Geonwoo was watching him from across the room. “He’ll bounce back,” Jihoon said, more to himself than anything else.

Geonwoo’s mouth curved up. “I’m sure he will. But right now,” he said, crossing the small distance between them, “I think we should focus on something else.”

Jihoon blinked, caught off guard. “And on what?”

Geonwoo’s grin widened, eyes gleaming in a way that reminded Jihoon of a big cat on the hunt. “You! On that clean game today. You were perfect and I didn’t have a chance yet to praise you properly.”

Jihoon’s laugh came out low and a little incredulous. “You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Geonwoo interrupted. He leaned closer, close enough that Jihoon could feel the warmth radiating off him. “Let me.”

Jihoon exhaled softly, his pulse picking up despite himself. The match results, the draft talk, Minhyung’s text - all of it slipped into the background.

"You had a hundred percent kill participation tonight, do you realise that? You were unbelievable and I think I'd like to reward you." Geonwoo murmured, pushing Jihoon down into the mattress, trapping him there with his body. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you."

Jihoon’s heart stuttered against his ribs. He actually didn't have to think long. "I want a blowjob while you wear your glasses," he requested with a cheeky smile, voice a little husky already.

Geonwoo stiffened, a small frown appearing on his face. "Jihoonie … you know I hate them. I look like a nervous accountant. It’s dumb."

"You don't look dumb," Jihoon insisted, reaching up to comb his fingers through Geonwoo's hair. "You look hot. It makes you look like you’re trying and failing to hide how strong you are. A bit like superman maybe? Come on, you said it’s my reward."

A slow, resigned smile spread across Geonwoo’s face. "Fine! You win. I did tell you to choose." He got up with a sigh and rummaged through his backpack. Once he returned, he held them out. "Put them on me then."

Jihoon moved to the edge of the bed and took the glasses, his hands actually trembling just the tiniest bit. He carefully unfolded them and slipped them onto Geonwoo's nose and ears. The effect was immediate: his eyes were magnified slightly, giving him a completely different, softer look, that sent a wave of possessive heat through Jihoon.

Geonwoo’s expression shifted, the reluctance replaced with playful authority. He leaned forward to claim Jihoon's mouth in a slow kiss, before breaking away to tug Jihoon's shirt - actually it was his, but who cared - over his head, tossing it aside.  

"Spread your legs for me,” Geonwoo commanded gently as he sank to his knees in front of the bed in one fluid motion. He undid Jihoon's pants while pressing kisses to his stomach. His teeth gently nipped the skin just above the waistband, before finally hooking his fingers under the fabric and pulling both pants and underwear down in one go.

Jihoon was already half hard, his legs spreading further in invitation. He couldn't take his eyes off Geonwoo’s face. The other mid laner looked utterly focused, yet so unfairly sweet.

Geonwoo didn't rush. He trailed featherlight kisses and small bites along Jihoon's inner thigh, slowly working his way up, leaving a path of little red marks in his wake. When he finally took Jihoon's cock in his mouth, it was slow and soft and wet. He didn't move at first, just looked up at him through those damn glasses, letting Jihoon enjoy the view, letting him fill and harden against his tongue.

Jihoon groaned, his hands automatically going for Geonwoo's hair, pulling him closer, deeper. He desperately tried to keep his eyes open, aware that he should better commit this to memory. Who knew if and when Geonwoo would indulge him again? But it was so hard! 

When Geonwoo moved, it was maddeningly slow at first. He dragged his tongue along the underside of his cock, licking circles around the head, never quite taking the full length into his mouth; gaze locked on Jihoon’s face.

"You look beautiful like this," Geonwoo said, lips against soft skin, sucking on the beauty mark right next to where Jihoon really, really wanted his lips right now. "Unraveling just for me."

Geonwoo finally sank down the entire length, made Jihoon gasp and moan, paused and withdrew entirely, letting the cool air hit the now wet skin. He leaned back on his heels, hands moving up and over Jihoon's flushed chest, coaxing whimpers and breathy moans from him.

“What would you do, if I stopped now? If I’d get up and tell you to get dressed?” Geonwoo murmured, his eyes dark and unreadable. 

A needy whine escaped Jihoon’s lips, hips twitching forward, trying to recapture the warmth. "No, please. Don’t. Geonwoo, please,” he begged, the words almost a little humiliating in their desperation.

Geonwoo’s lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile. He lowered his head, not to resume, but to flick his tongue teasingly over the wet, throbbing head, again and again. “You sound so sweet when you’re begging,” he said. “But I think I want you to be silent today. You can do that, right? I’ll continue, but not a sound or I will stop.”

His hand slipped down, cupping Jihoon's balls and squeezing gently before dipping even lower to press a fingertip against the tight opening between his legs.

“You’d really like something inside of you, wouldn’t you? Look how your hips are twitching,” Geonwoo teased, not pushing in, just letting the finger rest there. "Hold still, sweet thing. You take what I give you and nothing else. Can you do that for me or are you too far gone already?” 

Geonwoo didn’t even wait for a reaction. He dove back in, sucking, licking, making Jihoon bite back a cry and fight the urge to buck into his mouth, to pull him deeper by his hair - anything! 

Against every wish to keep looking, Jihoon squeezed his eyes shut, trying to obey, trying to find the silence his Dom demanded. He could feel the arousal building, the world narrowing to the wet heat and pressure around his cock. He was close, so incredibly close.

Geonwoo pulled back and Jihoon bit his bottom lip hard to not whine in protest, his hips jerking forward automatically. Geonwoo looked up, a triumphant, wicked smirk on his face.

"Not like this, Kitten." His low voice was full of amusement and challenge. "I want you to come on my face!"

Jihoon just stared in confusion for a moment.

Geonwoo pulled his right hand down to his mouth, tongue lapping at the skin in broad strokes. Then he wrapped that same wet hand firmly around Jihoon's straining cock.

"I want you to touch yourself until you come," Geonwoo explained, his eyes never leaving Jihoon's. "I want to watch you when you break and I want you to make a mess of these glasses, you seem to like so much."

Jihoon breathed out hard. How could he not obey? He gripped himself tightly, his mind turning blissfully blank.

Geonwoo stayed on the floor between his legs, one hand around Jihoon's ankle, the other pushing down his own pants just enough to get to his own aching erection.

He tried to mimic the rhythm Jihoon set, all while whispering encouragement and praise. "So desperate, so gorgeous, so close - aren't you? My perfect Jihoonie, absolute dominance ingame, yet so well behaved and obedient for me.”

The words, the sensation, the view; it all got too much and Jihoon shuddered violently, crying out Geonwoo's name as he came. 

Most of his cum ended up on Geonwoo's cheek and chin, but some hit the left lens of his glasses, leaving a milky streak across the glass. A little bit dribbled onto his mouth.

Jihoon let himself fall back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, panting, utterly undone.

Geonwoo remained kneeling as his own orgasm shuddered through him with a drawn out groan. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, tasting the warmth, before reaching up with his clean hand to pull the glasses off his face and examine the mess.

He looked at Jihoon who had pushed himself back up onto his elbows. "I guess, maybe I can learn to like them too," he joked.

Jihoon swallowed hard, cheeks still flushed, eyes glimmering with a mixture of awe and desire. “I want to touch you too,” he said.

Geonwoo let out a lazy chuckle as he lifted his sticky fingers. “Too late,” he murmured, voice low and thick, “you just sound and look too lovely like this.” Jihoon pouted before grabbing the hand on impulse, leaning in to experimentally lick a stripe clean. Still not his favorite flavor, but seeing the reaction it got him emboldened him to continue, lips and tongue working over Geonwoo’s palm and around his fingers. 

The other man sat stock still and stared, eyes wide, a moan escaping him, before letting his head drop forward. “Fucking hell  ... are you trying to kill me?” he chuckled against Jihoon's leg.

The answering laugh was still a little breathless. “That would be a waste. I would very much like to keep you around."

Geonwoo’s free hand tightened slightly on Jihoon's leg. “Then we should really get cleaned up properly now and go to bed. Otherwise I’ll throw all caution to the wind and both our teams will have sleepy midlaners tomorrow … and all just because of stupid glasses.”

Before Jihoon could protest, Geonwoo pulled him up from the bed and lifted him straight into his arms. The sudden movement made Jihoon yelp in surprise.

He clutched at Geonwoo’s neck, disbelief and thrill rushing through him as he was carried towards the bathroom. Being a tall guy himself, he had never once in his life considered it a possibility, let alone expected to just be picked up like that, but it felt … nice.

Geonwoo smiled down at him as if he had heard that though, one arm steady under Jihoon's knees and the other bracing his back. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he murmured.

Jihoon only rolled his eyes and let himself be carried, enjoying the new point of view and Geonwoo’s warmth. 

Chapter Text

It had become something like the norm that every major tournament now offered one big designated area for players of all teams to mingle before or after their games. 

Minhyung was stretching in one corner, trying to shake off the stiffness from sitting too long, when he got company. 

"You're doing that all wrong, you know?" Minkyu teased, gently correcting the angle of Minhyung's stretch by pressing on his elbow. "You'll pull something. Maybe you should save the over the top theatrics for the camera."

"Oh, like you're one to talk,'" Minhyung retorted, but he let Minkyu adjust his arm, actually leaning into the contact.

The support just laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. You should focus on you game, so we can have a rematch!" He kept his hand on Minhyung's shoulder as they talked, a casual touch that lasted just a little too long.

Across the room, the rest of Gen.G was trying to make sense of the unexpected camaraderie. Jaehyuk was perplexed, watching the interaction with wide eyes. "First you Jihoon-ah and now him. Why is everyone suddenly buddy-buddy with Guma?!"

Jihoon ignored him and just watched, his eyes thoughtful. T1’s ADC was always friendly, but this was on another level. The little info tidbit about Minhyung's interest in Minkyu resurfaced in his mind. Something had clearly happened between the two of them.

Later that night Jihoon finally got to take off his jersey and promptly tossed it in the furthest corner of the room. The intense focus of the day was giving way to exhaustion. Minkyu was already lying in his bed, scrolling his phone with tired eyes.

Jihoon briefly considered just letting the earlier interaction go, but curiously won out. As he got ready for bed, he looked over at Minkyu and asked: "So, what was that with Minhyung? You guys looked awfully friendly out there.”

Minkyu shifted under the covers to get comfortable, but his eyes didn't leave the screen. "What are you? My mom? Why the sudden interest in my social life, hyung?"

"Don't be an idiot," Jihoon said, shaking his head. "You two looked like you shared a bed last night. Which, knowing him, isn’t an impossibility."

Minkyu finally did look up, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Well, let's just say the content shoot a while ago was very … productive. We had a great time and decided to explore that synergy off camera."

"And?"

"And what?" Minkyu challenged, raising an eyebrow. "We had fun figuring out exactly how compatible we are." He paused, a little chuckle escaping him. "Or rather how incompatible. We kind of ended up in a draw."

"A draw?" Jihoon repeated, now sitting down on the edge of his own bed.

"Yep. A very entertaining, enjoyable draw," Minkyu confirmed, settling into his pillows with a satisfied sigh. "He's a very fun guy to be around, but that's it. Now, why do you care so much? Worried about my moral compass?"

Jihoon shook his head. "Just curious, nothing else."

Minkyu just laughed softly, finally putting his phone on the charger as well. He looked at Jihoon, his amusement clear. “While we’re playing twenty questions, wanna tell me where you disappear to at night? Not that I mind a room to myself. Does it have something to do with your sudden interest in Minhyung?"

Jihoon frowned. "What? Absolutely not!"

Minkyu just grinned and closed his eyes, letting the other man sputter in indignation.

The next day, Jihoon and Minhyung were relaxing in what was officially just Geonwoo's hotel room, they caught up on Worlds craziness and just enjoyed a rare moment of free time while waiting for the other mid laner to return from a team meeting. Jihoon scrolled through his phone while Minhyung was relaxing on the other bed, his arms crossed behind his head.

Minhyung stretched dramatically. "Do I have something on my face or is there something you want to ask? You keep looking over.” 

As if making his point, Jihoon’s eyes were already on him, when he glanced over. "I’m trying to figure out what happened between you and Minkyu, you suddenly seem so domestic.”

Minhyung chuckled, sitting up to face Jihoon. "Remember how I said he was cute? Well, I was somewhat right. We ended up in a hotel room after that content piece recently, but neither of us wanted to give in.”

He lowered his voice, tone becoming almost conspiratorial. "Imagine spending hours with someone, talking, touching, kissing - all just a battle for control. We were basically both too stubborn to yield to the other and be fucked, so we just jerked each other off, ending up in a tangled mess, laughing at how ridiculous it all was."

Jihoon listened, slightly taken back by the frankness. "That sounds ... exhausting," he managed. “And I'm starting to get Seonghoon more and more. You really have no filter, do you?”

"It was exhilarating," Minhyung corrected, his grin widening as he noticed Jihoon's slight flush. “And why do I need one? It's just the truth," Minhyung said, “I like having fun with people that are into it and into me. It’s relaxing. Minkyu for example or Elk."

Jihoon blinked, already bracing himself for what he was about to hear next when he asked: "Elk?"

There was a mischievous glint in Minhyung's eyes, promising trouble. "Jiahao is a bit of an opposite to you. He’s not so much into praise, he likes it when you’re a bit mean to him."

Jihoon felt a fresh wave of heat rise to his face. "How would you know what I’m into?" he retorted, genuinely taken aback.

Minhyung just chuckled, a low, knowing sound. "Please, you're an open book to me. I know first-hand what Geonwoo does best and the fact that you two work so well together; it's all quite obvious."

The accuracy and audacity momentarily stunned Jihoon. Minhyung leaned back against the pillows, his gaze distant, as if reliving a memory. 

"So, Elk! He for example called me to his room after they lost to us at MSI, dropped to his knees right away and practically begged me to let him suck me off, to be useful, prove that he's good at something. And he’s so damn good with his mouth, you can't imagine."

Minhyung let the words hang in the air, watching Jihoon's reaction with unconcealed delight. "Look at you, all red," he said, a knowing smirk on his face.

“You’ve never done something with another player at an international?” Jihoon just shook his head, feeling a little speechless. “Well, that doesn't paint me in the best light, ending up in hotel rooms and bath rooms and all.” 

“Bathrooms?!”

Minhyung’s laugh was a bit sheepish this time. “It’s not like it was planned, but what are you supposed to do when you stumble upon someone like Doggo and you both can't keep your hands off each other. We did at least end up in a proper bed later. He might look like all prim and proper, but he's a kinky sex demon or something 

Jihoon stared, a disbelieving look spreading across his face. "Minhyung, that's ..."

"Shocking? Hot? Yes," Minhyung finished for him, a look of pure, satisfied glee on his face. "I bet he still wears my marks." 

"Is this really normal during internationals? How did I miss all this?" Jihoon said, frowning slightly. "Do you ever just ... sleep?"

Minhyung watched Jihoon's face carefully. "Ah, too much info? I’ll dial it back," he promised, his teasing tone dropping. 

He moved to the other bed where Jihoon sat leaning against the headboard, letting himself flop onto his back next to him. 

“Forgive me?” He tried to look as small as possible, eyes wide and innocent, making Jihoon laugh. Minhyung smiled, before sobering a little

"Honestly? Sometimes it is hard to just sleep," Minhyung confessed, his voice quiet. "I know, it probably sounds like a lot and I hope you’re not thinking less of me or the others now. Not everyone is as lucky as you and Geonwoo. Your relationship is the equivalent of a fairy tale in our world." 

He sighed, letting a hint of genuine loneliness surface. "The rest of us are just making do with what we have, you know? We fuck up a single teamfight and immediately get turned into a meme. We’re always on display for someone out there. These … moments of connection with people that get it,” he said slowly, “they make things a bit more bearable. Even if they’re messy and short-lived.”

Jihoon wasn't quite sure what to say to that. He understood, of course he did, the ever-present pressure had literally brought him to Geonwoo. 

He couldn’t remember ever seeing his usually so boisterous friend this somber. Minhyung looked like his mind was far, far away as he spoke. “You have no idea what many of us would give to have something like you two. Don't get me wrong, it's fun and uncomplicated to have no attachment, but …” 

He trailed off, before sounding even more subdued when he continued. “For a while I thought I could have that too. Someone that was mine, someone to care for and who’d care for me in turn …” His eyes found Jihoon’s and there was so much longing in them that Jihoon’s lungs refused to work for a moment. 

His hand lifted, hesitated, before petting through Minhyung's hair in soothing strokes. Anything to make that pained look disappear. Minhyung’s eyes widened in surprise, before he leaned into the touch and let them fall shut. 

Jihoon’s voice was quiet and serious. “You’re talking about Minseok, aren't you?” The answer was a hum and a nod. “I can't fix that, but you mean a lot to so many people, to Geonwoo and to me as well. I know it's not the same, but you’re not alone.” 

Minhyung let himself enjoy the sensation for a little longer, before he opened his eyes again and reached for the hand in his hair. “I think I’m starting to understand why he calls you kitten, all chaos and claws, but then so shockingly sweet.”

He pressed the hand against his cheek for a moment, before letting go and sitting up, a wry smile on his face. “I’m usually fine,but something is off today. Maybe I’m simply a little down, because Sungwonie is out. I don't care about Fnatic, but I was looking forward to playing against him.”

Some of the usual spark returned to his eyes. "And I by the way still can't believe that you’ve never so much as fantasised about another player."

Jihoon huffed a tiny laugh, before admitting: "I wouldn't have had a proper idea what to fantasise about. I’ve never even kissed a guy before Geonwoo." 

"And now?"

Being questioned like that might have flustered him in the past, but now he just smirked. "Now, I mostly just think that nobody really compares to him … and I think we'll stop this conversation right about now."

Minhyung pouted a bit, but ultimately laughed the deflection off. "Spoilsport! But ok, keep your secrets!”

Chapter Text

Jihoon woke to the dull thud of someone knocking or rather banging on the door. His head felt foggy, his body heavy and warm beneath the sheets. For a second, he thought he’d dreamed the sound. Then came another round of pounding, even louder this time.

He groaned, dragging a hand over his face. The other side of the bed was empty. 

“Maybe he went to grab breakfast or something,” Jihoon muttered. “And forgot his damn card again … genius.”

He squinted toward the clock on the nightstand. 7:22 a.m. Way too early for this. Still half-asleep, he reached for the nearest thing to wear - Geonwoo’s white T-shirt from yesterday - and tugged it over his head. The fabric fell halfway down his thighs. Good enough.

The knocking came again, sharp and impatient. Jihoon shuffled to the door and peered through the peephole, just to be sure. 

HLE jacket.

He sighed and unlocked the door. “You seriously forgot your-”

It wasn’t Geonwoo. 

In front of the door stood someone wearing the HLE uniform, but the name on his back read Zeus. And arguably worse: next to him stood Peanut, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

For a few seconds, no one said anything. Just three people staring at each other in a hotel hallway. Then Wangho’s grin widened. “Well, well, well. Good morning to you too, Jihoonie,” he said, dragging out his name with obvious glee.

Jihoon didn’t even think. He grabbed both of them by their sleeves and yanked them inside. The door slammed shut behind them.

“What are you-” Wooje started, but that was obviously the moment the bathroom door opened.

Steam billowed out, followed by Geonwoo, fresh from the shower, hair wet, towel hanging low on his hips.

“Oh,” Geonwoo said.

Wangho’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Yes, oh! Care to explain this?”

Jihoon rubbed at his eyes, feeling the headache coming. “I hate you, hyung, so so much” he muttered through his fingers.

Wooje, meanwhile, looked like he was about to combust, eyes furious behind his glasses. “What the fuck, hyung? How can you do this to Minhyung?”

That stopped everyone.

Geonwoo, the clear target of the outburst, just blinked. Surprised both by their maknae swearing, but also by the accusation itself. “What?”

“You’re together, aren't you? How could you cheat on him? I really thought better of you!”

“Wooje-yah, no, you got that wrong … ”

Wooje uncrossed his arms, counting off on his fingers like a detective presenting evidence. “You invited him to our dorm to go to the gym of all things. You play League together all the time. You smile all secretly when you see each other. You came to that T1 match with me and I saw you two talking there.”

“We’re really just friends, I promise,” Geonwoo said quickly, towel barely hanging on as he lifted his hands in surrender to placate his angry toplaner.

Wooje clearly wasn’t buying any of it. “I saw you in the gym back then. That didn’t look like friends one bit. More like you were about to- ” He hesitated, caught himself. “ -eat him.”

Wangho burst out laughing, endlessly delighted by what was unfolding in front of his eyes. And Jihoon couldn’t help it; a small snort escaped him as well, before he could stop it. The absurdity of it all - the slipping towel, the cliche conversation, the early hour, him in nothing but a long shirt - it was just a little too much.

Geonwoo groaned as he fixed the piece of fabric around his waist. “You are having way too much fun with this for people who literally just barged into my room.”

“Oh? This is your room?” Wangho teased between laughs. “So why wasn't it you that opened the door?”

“Hyung, I swear, I’ll strangle you in your sleep ” Geonwoo warned, but it only made the jungler laugh harder.

Jihoon finally stepped in, deciding to help the poor man. “Okay, okay, let's calm down before we get noise complaints. There’s nothing dramatic happening, alright? We’re just …” He stopped talking, clearly not sure how to finish the sentence.

“Just?” Wangho prompted, eyes dancing with mirth.

“Just,” Jihoon repeated flatly as he moved to the bed to put on more clothes. “You can fill in the rest with your imagination, you’re already doing that anyway, right?”

Wooje still looked unconvinced, but the fire in his eyes had cooled into something closer to resigned embarrassment. “You guys are unbelievable, I expect a proper explanation, but please get dressed first,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

Geonwoo sighed, finally relaxing. “Look on the bright side, it could've been worse. At least we’re somewhat dressed.”

Wangho howled at Wooje’s horrified look. “That would have been even better!”

Jihoon threw a pillow at him. “Pervert!” It missed.

The blankets rustled as Jihoon stirred first, woken by his alarm, blinking sleep from his eyes, before silencing the phone and turning toward Geonwoo.

He smiled at how young the other man looked in his sleep, hair mussed and lips parted. He almost felt bad for disturbing the peace. Brushing his fingers over his cheek, he whispered: “Hey, Woo-yah.”

Geonwoo cracked one eye open. “Morning.”

“We need to get up. And let’s hope we won't have any visitors today.”

“Don’t remind me,” he mumbled into the pillow, voice still rough with sleep.

Jihoon laughed quietly. “I think it’s kind of nice that somebody else now knows, is that weird?”

Geonwoo rolled over to face him, eyes finally open. “No, I know what you mean. Secrets are fun, but this is … freeing. Also: more people that know everybody should keep their hands off you.”

Jihoon elbowed him lightly, but he smiled. They lay there for a few quiet minutes longer, the kind of calm that only existed before everything sped up again.

“HongQ’s scary,” Jihoon murmured after a while, chin propped on his hand. “You’ll have your hands full with him today. He’s got that no fear rookie thing going.”

Geonwoo smiled lazily. “Maybe. But I play against you all the time. Can’t be worse than that.”

Jihoon decided the best answer was to smother him with his pillow. 

The van door slammed and cameras flashed. Geonwoo ducked his head as he stepped out - only to misjudge the height and hit his head against the top of the door frame.

The thunk was loud enough that even the fans nearby winced.

“See, sometimes it's great not to be a giant,” his support snorted.

Geonwoo rubbed the spot with a grimace. “This is a good omen, right?”

“Sure,” came the dry reply.

By the time they stepped on the stage, the throbbing behind his eyes had faded to a dull pulse and adrenaline took care of the rest once he sat down and placed his hands on mouse and keyboard.

Maybe it had indeed been an auspicious sign, because Azir felt like an extension of him today - each shuffle precise, each combo doing exactly what he intended and HongQ didn't stand a chance. HLE dismantled CFO until the crowd roared their names.

And when the interviewer handed Geonwoo the mic afterwards, he slipped into Chinese for the greeting, which drew even louder cheers from the crowd. 

Exhaustion hung heavy in the air that night, but it wasn’t unpleasant. 

“Your head okay?” Jihoon asked, after he had finished brushing his teeth, stepping back into the room.

“Still attached,” Geonwoo said with a grin, as he stuffed the last items into his suitcase. HLE was now officially qualified for the Knockout Stage, so they’d soon fly out to Shanghai.

Jihoon rolled his eyes, watching him. “You know,” he began slowly, “hearing you speak Chinese today … you make it sound really good.”

Geonwoo didn’t say anything, just lifted an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Then, before Jihoon could react, he stepped forward, catching him by the waist and half lifted, half pushed him onto the bed. Jihoon yelped in surprise, the sound dissolving into laughter as he hit the mattress.

“What the heck!?”

“You liked it that much? Wanna hear some more?” Geonwoo murmured, bracing his hands on either side of him.

Jihoon grinned up at him, a little breathless. “Maybe.”

He leaned down until his breath warm against Jihoon’s ear. The next words were indeed more Chinese. Jihoon didn’t understand all of it, but he liked how different the now so familiar voice sounded in the foreign language.

Jihoon’s hands slid up to clutch at his back, his breath catching as Geonwoo kissed the edge of his jaw, then the corner of his mouth.

When Jihoon finally managed to speak, it came out as a whisper. “You always look so damn cute on stage and in interviews and then you’re this in private.”

Geonwoo’s expression was pure mischief. “Is this good or bad?”

Jihoon’s fingers curled tighter into the fabric, urging him closer. “What do you think?”

Geonwoo chuckled softly, the sound brushing against Jihoon’s lips. “Guess I’m your secret, then.”

Jihoon’s eyes fluttered open. 

Geonwoo grinned: “You like that?”

The reply came as a nod, followed by a kiss that stole the rest of Geonwoo’s words.

The next morning came so early, it was basically still night.

Jihoon woke up to the sound of luggage being zipped shut and the shuffle of Geonwoo moving quietly around the hotel room. Dawn hadn’t even fully broken yet.

“Already leaving?” Jihoon mumbled, half-buried under blankets.

“Flight’s in two hours,” Geonwoo said softly, crouching beside the bed. “You can still sleep some more.”

Jihoon rubbed at his eyes, then reached up to tug Geonwoo closer by his neck. “Stay safe,” he murmured.

Geonwoo chuckled, leaning in until their lips brushed in what was barely a kiss and more a shared breath. “Will do! Good luck later, not that you’ll need it. I know you’ll win.”

When he left a couple minutes later, Jihoon lay awake staring at the ceiling, an unexpected ache in his chest.

It was just one day apart. 

One day...

Once Gen.G arrived at the arena, the noise and lights washed away any of the lingering heaviness Jihoon still felt. The match against TES was everything they’d prepared for and then some. The analysts had hyped it up as a coin-flip, but Jihoon was never one to leave things to chance.

His Taliyah roamed like she owned the map and his Yone tore through the enemy carries with a kind of ruthless precision that even his own teammates hadn’t seen in a while. Every fight looked effortless; every move was decisive.

By the time the Nexus exploded for the final win, the crowd was wild. Jihoon stood from his chair, offering fistbumps and half-smiles. Just another day at work.

The atmosphere in their green room afterward was lively. The coaches were still analyzing minor plays, while the rest debated whether to grab dinner out to celebrate their win. Jihoon listened with half an ear, thumb absently swiping across his phone, when a new message notification popped up.

<Fucking hell, kitten, what was that?! And you don’t get to say anything about my Chinese anymore … not after that Interview! Not to mention that vlog your team posted today. Why do you always get so close to the camera? And stop licking your damn lips like that! I can’t concentrate. Just use lip balm like a normal person!>

Jihoon stared at the screen for half a second before a laugh slipped out.

Across the table, Kiin was startled by the sudden sound. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing, ” Jihoon said quickly, biting down on another laugh, but the grin stayed. He typed back with fast fingers.

<Miss me already?>

The reply came almost instantly.

<So much! Shut up!>

Jihoon giggled again, earning more confused looks from his teammates and tucked his phone into his pocket. His heart felt lighter, the earlier ache replaced by warmth.

He wasn’t sure what it said about him that a single chaotic text from Geonwoo could make him happier than a clean sweep on stage - but it did.

Chapter Text

It was one of those strange lulls during the tournament, where there was really nothing to do except wait. Jihoon’s suitcase was already packed for their journey to Shanghai, so now he was just willing the hours to pass faster.

A new notification lit up his group chat with Seonghoon and Minhyung

dont_worry_i_carry:
tell me this doesn’t look like Geonwoo

The attached video loaded slowly on Jihoon’s phone: A man in a red tinted room, clearly not Geonwoo, but enough of a double to make Jihoon’s heart stutter. He looked like he’d had too much to drink or maybe too much of something else. The camera caught the flush in his cheeks, the blown pupils, the glassiness of his eyes.

One hand from off-camera tilted his chin up, while another one held a glass to parted lips. The man drank obediently and the hand patted his cheek. He looked so utterly pliant. Docile. Sweet. Sexy.

Jihoon’s thumb hovered over the screen long after the reel ended. He hit replay. Once. Twice. Again. His pulse climbed higher with every loop and he didn’t even notice that he was holding his breath until Seonghoon’s string of laughing emojis in the chat made his phone vibrate.

not_always_on_top:
don’t let him see this
or no more gentle giant

dont_worry_i_carry:
am I wrong though?
tell me this isn’t him if he got railed stupid

not_always_on_top:
please stop 

Jihoon’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. Joking back would be the expected reaction, but instead he stayed silent and locked his phone.

His mind was stuck on the way the man’s throat moved when he swallowed, on how absurd it was to imagine Geonwoo looking like that. 

And yet, when he unlocked his phone again, his thumb already went to the replay button.

Sleep wasn’t happening. Jihoon’s brain just wouldn’t shut up, replaying that stupid reel over and over. He flipped onto his side, onto his back, then sat up with a frustrated sigh.

Fine. If his head wanted chaos, it could have company. He grabbed his phone and texted Minhyung.

      are you awake?
want to go up to the bar for a bit?

sure?
give me a minute

Minhyung did indeed show up at his door only a couple minutes later. “You look like you’re around two seconds from climbing the walls.”

“I’m-” Jihoon started, then stopped and pivoted. “It's actually all your fault!”

“My fault?” Minhyung repeated slowly, incredulous, but he didn’t push for clarification. “Well then, let me make it up to you … whatever I did.”

They rode the elevator up to the top floor of the hotel. The rooftop bar was probably much busier during the summer months, but even now the outdoor area looked cozy, illuminated by string lights and kept warm thanks to heat lamps. 

Jihoon headed straight for an empty table near the railing, enjoying the night air cooling his heated skin. The view of the skyline was breathtaking, Beijing stretching out all around them.

They decided against alcohol, neither of them needed that kind of bad idea tonight. Instead, they ended up with some brightly coloured abomination Minhyung had ordered without asking and Jihoon didn’t bother arguing.

He took a sip - tart, sweet, something tropical, not bad. They settled into familiar banter.

“So,” Jihoon said, leaning back in his chair, “are you joining BLG in the “lost to 100 Thieves” club tomorrow?”

Minhyung let out a long suffering sigh. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. And here I thought that you wanted to celebrate advancing, not poke at my insecurities.”

“Why not both?” Jihoon shrugged with a grin. “I’m just reminding you that you better join us in Shanghai.”

Minhyung glowered at him, but couldn't quite hide his amusement. “You’re a menace when you can't sleep, aren’t you?”

The atmosphere was relaxed, the kind of easy comfort Jihoon had hoped for when he asked Minhyung to meet up. The city lights were pretty, the mocktail decent and for a few minutes he felt the tension bleed out of his shoulders.

But then that damn video he had been trying to forget flashed across his mind again and he groaned.

“About that thing you sent earlier …”

Minhyung raised an eyebrow, smirking before Jihoon even finished. “Ah, that kept you up? I knew you would like it.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes, but pressed on. “Could you actually imagine Geonwoo … like that?” 

For a moment Minhyung didn’t answer. He just looked out over the city. “Imagine?” His lips quirked into a grin. “I don’t have to imagine.”

Jihoon’s head snapped to him, almost choking on his drink. “What?”

“I mean,” Minhyung drawled, twirling his straw between his fingers, “I’ve seen him like that. Once. And trust me,” his voice dipped lower, “it was one of the hottest nights of my life.”

Jihoon just stared. “You’re messing with me.”

But Minhyung shook his head, smirk softening into something fond. “Not this time! Geonwoo is always the one in control, but that night, he let me take it. I asked and he just handed it over, let me push him down and keep him there. He looked at me like the guy in that video, waiting for whatever I’d give him.”

His gaze drifted for a second, like he was back there, remembering. “I’ve never felt more aroused or honored or humbled. It wasn't like I convinced him, he simply chose to indulge me.”

Jihoon swallowed hard. The thought of Geonwoo undone and docile under Minhyung’s hands was certainly … something.

Driver sharing gym time with him makes me jealous, but this doesn't? Sure, makes a lot of sense, brain.

Minhyung grinned wider when he noticed Jihoon’s distracted expression. “Careful, once you get that image in your head, it doesn’t really leave.”

Jihoon almost laughed, because he knew it was way too late for that. The picture was there and it wasn’t going anywhere.

HLE had been given the Saturday off to do with as they pleased. For most players, that meant sleep, maybe a little sightseeing if they could sneak it in without fans noticing. 

It was meant to be a day to breathe and relax. So why did Geonwoo find himself pacing around his new hotel room?

There was only one bed this time, Riot had sprung for singles for every player. After all, they were a lot less teams to accommodate now that Swiss was over. And Goenwoo was grateful, because he had gotten used to the small pocket of privacy.

While he waited for Jihoon to arrive, he had tried to focus on VODs, tried to play some TFT, even just tried to nap, but his brain refused to calm down. Every thought turned into a spiral about the future, his future. The fear of being considered not good enough or worse, having to leave Korea to stay in the game, it turned his stomach into knots.

He didn’t understand it, but something about the day just felt … off.

So he did what he always did when the thoughts got too loud: he reached for one of the small coils of rope he kept hidden in his luggage. It wasn’t much, but the familiar friction against his hands calmed him. He texted Seonghoon with blue cotton wrapped around his fingers.

still nothing from him

he’s probably still in the air or on the way

true
today is weird, hyung
wish I had you here for a session

you brought some rope, didn’t you?

just the one from you

then do something small to clear your head
deep breaths, woo-yah

Geonwoo followed his hyung’s advice. He looped the rope around the stand of the lamp beside the bed, threading it over and under itself until it took shape. A heart ladder, neat and symmetrical, his favorite little pattern to fall back on when the noise in his head got too loud. 

“Cute,” Jihoon’s voice came from behind him, light and amused.

Geonwoo jumped so hard he nearly pulled the lamp off the night table. He turned, ears actually a bit red. “I’m going to put a bell on you, I swear!” He turned back to his ropework. “It’s weird, I know,” he muttered. “You can say it. But it helps a little.”

Jihoon tilted his head. “Sorry, I thought you heard me come in. My phone died or I would have texted you. And I wasn’t going to call it weird.” He stepped closer, eyes soft. “You okay?”

For a moment, Geonwoo just stared at the lamp, the words catching in his throat. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “I’m just … off today. About everything. I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, let alone next season. I hate feeling so out of control. What if they don’t want me back? What if nobody wants me?” He exhaled hard, the sound tight. “I want to compete, but I’m worried and I don’t want to leave. Not Korea. Not …” His voice faltered. “Not you.”

Jihoon stepped closer, his hand brushing Geonwoo’s shoulder. “You’re really good, Woo-yah. You know that, right?”

Geonwoo didn’t answer. His fingers twisted the rope again, pulling it tighter and tighter until the fibers bit deep into his skin. Jihoon winced at the sight.

“Please stop! You’re hurting yourself.”

Geonwoo looked down, startled, then dropped the rope, flexing his reddened fingers. “Oh,” he murmured. “Didn’t even notice.”

Jihoon hesitated for only a second before he sat down next to him and held out his arm. “Leave the poor lamp alone and do this on me instead.”

Geonwoo blinked. “You don’t have to-”

“Nope,” Jihoon interrupted, tone firm. “I want your hands on me.”

Geonwoo huffed a laugh. “I promised not to touch your arms,” he said, almost apologetic. “And this isn’t enough for anything else.”

Jihoon’s voice was gentle, but serious. “It’s not both arms, right? I trust you. You need this and I know you’ll be careful enough with me, that you won’t accidentally hurt yourself.”

For a long moment, Geonwoo just stared at him, then slowly nodded. He undid the loops from the lamp and turned back to Jihoon, taking his offered hand. Before starting, he lifted it to his lips in an old-fashioned kiss and Jihoon felt his face warm.

He watched in silence as Geonwoo began to work. The rope moved fluidly through his fingers, each knot precise but indeed careful. The tension in his shoulders eased as the pattern took shape - three small hearts linked together across Jihoon’s forearm, woven in light blue cotton that looked slightly frayed with age.

When Jihoon noticed, he asked softly, “I’ve never seen you use that one before.”

Geonwoo smiled, a little calmer now. “It was a gift from Seonghoon-hyung when we came back from San Fransisco. My favorite color and short enough to hide it in my luggage, to keep with me when I get antsy.”

He tied the last knot neatly, then exhaled; a long, shaky breath that seemed to take some of the weight with it. He traced the pattern once more, then looked up at Jihoon. “Thank you, kitten.”

Jihoon gave him a lopsided smile. “Not for that.”

“Yes,” Geonwoo said. “Exactly for that. For indulging me, for listening, for stepping out of your comfort zone just to put me in mine. Thank you!”

He lifted Jihoon’s arm by his handd, pressing a kiss into each tiny heart. Jihoon chuckled at the ticklish sensation.

Geonwoo looked up at him, his expression earnest and uncharacteristically serious. “I love you.”

Jihoon eyes widened, laughter fading into stunned silence. “What?”

“I love you, Jeong Jihoon,” Geonwoo repeated quietly. “You make my life better just by being in it.”

Jihoon blinked, disbelieving. “Say that again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

Geonwoo finally smiled, helplessly, softly. “I love you.”

Jihoon didn’t quite know how it happened - one moment he was sitting next to him, the next he was in Geonwoo’s lap, kissing him in a flurry of half-laughs and breathless gasps. Every kiss landed like a stamp, messy and eager, until Geonwoo started laughing and tried to dodge.

“So, I guess you like me too?” Geonwoo teased, using both hands to hold Jihoon’s face still.

Jihoon rolled his eyes, grinning so wide it almost hurt. “Yeah, idiot. I like you. I fucking love you too. Now, can I please kiss you again?”

Geonwoo dropped his hands in surrender and the next kiss was slow, but deep and full of all the emotions that had gone unsaid for too long. Jihoon pressed him back against the bed, both of them laughing between kisses, until they finally broke apart - lips red, eyes shining.

“So,” Geonwoo whispered, still a little dazed, “does that mean I can really, officially, call you mine now, not just in the heat of the moment? My boyfriend?”

“Only if you’re mine too,” Jihoon shot back instantly.

“Yours,” Geonwoo agreed. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever then,” Jihoon replied without hesitation.

Geonwoo laughed, joy spilling out of him like it couldn’t be contained. He pulled Jihoon close again, kissing him gently this time, slow and soft and sweet. When they parted, Jihoon rested his forehead against Geonwoo’s.

“You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine,” he murmured. “Even if you ended up on the other side of the world - which you won’t - we’ll still be fine. You hear me?”

Geonwoo smiled, eyes closed, letting himself believe it for now. “Whatever you say, Jihoonie.”

Just hours later they learned that they would have to face each other in the quarter finals.

Chapter Text

Jihoon had no idea how long he had been staring at his phone. He desperately tried to forget what that stupid guy on that stupid stage with his stupid balls had decided.

HLE vs Gen.G

He remembers watching the draw with his teammates and their coaches earlier, hearing the others bemoan the fact that they would have to fight such a strong opponent right away. They were right of course, but Jihoon felt like somebody had pulled the ground out from under his feet and he tried desperately not to let it show on his face.

What kind of cosmic joke was this? First he had been allowed to feel like he was floating on cloud nine only to come crashing down to reality not even half a day later? Part of him had wanted to scream and stomp his foot like an angry toddler.

Of course both he and Geonwoo had been aware that this could happen, they had even joked about it, but to see it come true and not even in the finals or at least semis; it felt like a slap in the face. 

So now Jihoon found himself lying on his bed, once again replaying that damn video Minhyung had sent the day before. Thankfully, it was still a ridiculously successful distraction.

The glass tipped to waiting lips, that trust-drunk gaze that stirred something in his chest … and in his pants if he was being honest. He knew it wasn’t Geonwoo, knew it wasn’t real, but his body and brain refused to listen or maybe they just didn't care.

“What are you watching?”

The voice came low and warm against his ear, sending a shiver straight down his spine. Jihoon froze, phone still in his hand, caught like a teenager doing something forbidden.

Thoughtlessly, he whispered: “You.”

Geonwoo leaned over his shoulder, dark eyes flicking to the screen. His mouth curved into a small smile as he studied the looping video. “That’s not me.”

Jihoon snapped out of his haze, fumbling to lock the phone and hide it, but Geonwoo’s hand caught his wrist before he could. He leaned in close, his lips brushing Jihoon’s ear. “But you really seem to want it to be me. Am I reading this right? You want me like that? Looking like I’ve just been fucked six ways to Sunday?”

Jihoon’s heart stuttered. He should deny it, laugh it off, but the flutter in his stomach, the want was undeniable, so he stayed quiet.

Geonwoo urged him to turn over, grin sharp and teasing. “I guess we could use a distraction. Shall we make it real? Wanna make me feel so very good? I could talk you through it.”

The words alone had Jihoon moaning softly, his mind in disbelief that Geonwoo was offering this, offering himself like this.

“Well,” Geonwoo murmured, “only if you want to of course.”

That broke Jihoon from his trance. He grabbed a laughing Geonwoo, dragged him into a kiss so passionate it bordered on desperate. Clothes came off in frenzied tugs, shirts thrown somewhere, pants kicked away, until skin met skin and they were panting into each other’s mouths.

Geonwoo slid his fingers into Jihoon’s hair, tugging his head back. Their noses brushed, breath mixing hot and ragged. “Kneel there,” he ordered gently, nodding toward the foot of the bed.

Jihoon obeyed without hesitation, settling on his knees at the end of the mattress, eyes wide, nails digging into his thighs, body practically vibrating with excitement.

Geonwoo leaned back, stretching out against the pillows with deliberate languidness, every motion meant to tease. He reached for the bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer and coated his fingers slowly, thoroughly, watching Jihoon the entire time.

“Don’t move, just watch for now,” he said with an actual wink.

And Jihoon did. He couldn’t tear his eyes away as Geonwoo’s hand slid down over his own chest, fingers glistening as they traced lower and lower. Every glide, every breath was a performance just for him and Jihoon drank it in with something between awe and hunger.

Geonwoo trailed his hand down his chest, lower still, past his hard cock and slowly pressed the tip of his finger inside his body. A shiver ran through him, his lips parting with a low groan.

Jihoon couldn't tear his eyes away from this sight he honestly never expected to see, he didn't realize he’d made a sound until Geonwoo chuckled darkly. “I like your eyes on me. Enjoying the view?” 

His throat too tight for words, Jihoon could only nod. He bit hard at his lip, trying to hold still, trying to prove he could behave.

Geonwoo certainly didn’t make it easy for him. He pushed the rest of the finger inside, stretching himself open with slow, deliberate movements. His other hand worked his cock with a steady rhythm. The sight alone was enough to make Jihoon’s pulse race. 

He rocked forward despite himself, couldn’t stop the small sounds leaving him: soft, hitching breaths, little whimpers that grew louder every time Geonwoo thrust deeper into his own body.

Jihoon shook his head quickly. “I’ll be good,” he breathed, half plea half promise to Geonwoo 

... to himself.

“I know you will. You’ll be patient and perfect for me,” Geonwoo said softly. He eased his finger out of himself, watching Jihoon’s eyes follow every movement. His hand reached for the lube again, but this time he held it out to Jihoon with a small, wicked curl of his lips.

“Help me get ready for you,” he asked. His tone landed somewhere between command and invitation. 

Jihoon swallowed hard, then he took the bottle and shuffled forward on his knees, closing the space between them until his arm brushed the inside of Geonwoo’s bent leg.

He slicked his fingers and when the first slid inside to replace Geonwoo’s own, Jihoon’s whole body shivered at the sensation of hot muscle tight around him.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispered, his voice cracking at the intensity of the moment. 

Geonwoo let his head fall back against the pillow. “Just like that!”

Jihoon forced himself to go slow, careful not to push too far or too fast. He had never touched anyone else like this and he’d rather die than hurt Geonwoo. He so badly wanted to get it right.

“Is this okay?" he rasped, uncertainty bleeding into his voice. His finger curled slightly, testing, gauging the response, trying to do what made himself feel good.

“You’re doing so well,” Geonwoo reassured, his voice rough but sure. “I can take another.”

Jihoon carefully pressed in a second finger beside the first. How long had it been for Geonwoo? The stretch was obvious, the clench around him stronger and Jihoon groaned low in his throat as he felt it. 

Geonwoo matched him, a broken sound pulled straight from his chest when Jihoon curled his fingers and finally dragged them across that spot inside he had been searching for. His hips rocked, unbidden, chasing the pleasure.

“You’re making me feel fantastic.”

The praise went straight through Jihoon like lightning. A sound escaped him - something between a moan and a whine. “You like that, don't you, hearing what you do to me?” Geonwoo asked, voice laced with heat. 

His eyelids fluttered, lashes trembling, when Jihoon pressed just right against his prostate again. “Another one,” he breathed, hips lifting with the demand.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Jihoon eased another finger inside. It was hard to go slow. Geonwoo sighed, voice catching, every syllable dripping with arousal. “Just like that. Want you to open me up for your cock.”

Jihoon stilled, his fingers buried in heat, shuddering at the image. A strangled sound tore out of his throat and he dropped his head against Geonwoo’s knee, trying to breathe through the sharp, overwhelming jolt of lust that threatened to undo his composure.

Geonwoo’s fingers slid into Jihoon’s hair, gentle and possessive, scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Perfect, patient kitten,” Geonwoo crooned, his tone breathy, but affectionate, threading his fingers through Jihoon’s hair as if grounding him. “You’re gonna feel so good inside of me.”

“Oh god,” Jihoon moaned, his breath came fast, shallow and all he could think was how Geonwoo’s body was going to feel, that tight, searing grip around his cock instead of just his fingers.

Geonwoo arched his back, body bending every time Jihoon’s fingertips grazed that spot inside that made him unravel.

It was minutes, hours, eternities later when the hand in his hair pulled Jihoon up into a shockingly sweet kiss and a single word was mumbled against his lips.

 “Enough!”

Jihoon leaned back and just watched with wide eyes as Geonwoo turned himself over onto all fours in front of him. His broad back curved beautifully as he cast a glance over his shoulder, gaze dark and daring.

“Come on, fuck me!”

Jihoon’s brain bluescreened, too overwhelmed by those words, by the sight of Geonwoo offering himself so willingly, that he almost forgot how painfully hard he was. 

His hands shook as he coated himself with slick strokes, every glide made him grit his teeth and think of horribly unpleasant things to hold back from coming right then and there.

The feeling of finally pressing into tight, scorching heat stole all air from his lungs. His forehead dropped between Geonwoo’s shoulders, his fingers digging into his hips as he shook with the effort not to lose control. “I … I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” Geonwoo panted, voice breaking but still reassuring. “Feels so good.” His words were like gasoline to fire, burning hot through Jihoon’s restraint. Every shallow thrust a battle against the overwhelming need to take, take, take. 

This isn't about me, this is about pleasing him, nothing else.

Jihoon adjusted his angle, searching, desperate, tilting his hips with each thrust until he found it again; that perfect spot that made the other man gasp.

“Slow down! I want to enjoy this.”

Jihoon forced himself to obey, even though every muscle in his body screamed to do the exact opposite, to move faster. His hands roamed restlessly over Geonwoo’s back and hips and thighs, gripping, kneading, stroking, trying to anchor himself.

“God, how do you keep a clear thought, when you’re inside of me?” Jihoon choked out, watching himself sink into Geonwoo again, cock glistening as it disappeared into the tight heat. 

“Discipline,” Geonwoo chuckled darkly. “Harder, please.”

Jihoon’s restraint cracked - his hips snapped forward with sharper thrusts, his rhythm picking up despite the warning coiling tight in his gut. “I’m so close,” he gasped, voice breaking with the strain.

“I know, I can feel it” Geonwoo lifted his head, tilting it just enough so Jihoon could see his face. Flushed red, eyes blown wide and dark, strands of damp hair sticking to his forehead. “Hold out a little longer … I want to come on your cock. Can you do that for me?”

“I can try, but you’re so tight.” Jihoon admitted honestly, words tumbling raw from his lips. He always wanted to give Geonwoo everything, wanted to be what he needed, but it felt like he was walking a tightrope, seconds from tipping over the edge.

Geonwoo reached back, tangling his fingers with Jihoon’s. He tugged him closer until Jihoon was pressed over his back, joined hands sliding forward to brace over Geonwoo’s chest. “Always so good for me. You’re doing amazing.”

Jihoon pressed himself against Geonwoo’s back, draping his body over him, his free hand braced in the sheets. He slowed, hips rolling in a deep, grinding rhythm and though the slower pace was torturous, it cooled the edge of urgency just enough.

It shifted everything - from frantic need to something thick with intimacy. Jihoon pressed open mouth kisses to Geonwoo’s shoulder. 

“Is this good?” Jihoon whispered against the curve of Geonwoo’s upper back, teeth and lips colouring the sensitive skin red.

“Yeah,” Geonwoo croaked, the sound breaking into a moan as Jihoon adjusted the angle of his hips and pressed into him just right. He repeated the motion, again, again, again; chasing that sound.

Jihoon could feel his own orgasm looming, but he refused to give in yet. He forced himself to focus on the broken, needy sounds spilling from Geonwoo’s mouth.

“You’re gorgeous," Jihoon whispered, words breaking on his own ragged breath. He kissed the back of Geonwoo’s neck, pressing their bodies flush together. “So fucking beautiful.”

The sounds Geonwoo made were small, fractured, unlike anything Jihoon had ever heard from him - vulnerable, wrecked, undone. 

Geonwoo inhaled sharply, the breath shaking through his lungs before he exhaled in a rush. “Dont stop, please. I’m so close.”

Jihoon pressed kisses and bites along every patch of skin he could reach: Geonwoo’s shoulders, the slope of his neck, the curve of his spine. 

“Gonna come,” Jihoon gasped, hips rocking helplessly, grinding deep into Geonwoo, as he came apart under him. His control was fraying, every muscle straining with the need to let go. “ I can’t-”

“Inside,” Geonwoo rasped, voice hoarse but commanding, pushing back hard against Jihoon’s cock with reckless need. “Come in me. I want you to. Now!”

Jihoon’s vision flared white at the edges as he buried himself as deep as he could go, clutching Geonwoo tight to his chest, feeling the heat around him tighten, hearing Geonwoo's twin cry of release. 

They collapsed together into the sheets, both of them breathing hard, body shuddering. Jihoon somehow held himself up on his elbows, while Geonwoo twitched under and around him, little hitching breaths still catching in his throat.

And Jihoon knew he should move, but it took a moment before his muscles were willing to cooperate. With careful motions he eased out of Geonwoo’s body. The other man hissed at the loss, but Jihoon soothed the protest with kisses, soft hands and softer words as he knelt beside him.

Geonwoo’s voice was quiet, roughened by exhaustion “Can you get me something to drink, please?” And Jihoon moved before he even thought about it. It felt natural—effortless—to slip into the role Geonwoo usually took on after nights like this. He stepped into the bathroom, filling a glass of water before letting the tap run warm. He soaked a towel, wringing it out until it was just damp, then carried both back to the room.

Geonwoo was sprawled out against the sheets, loose-limbed, looking every bit the picture of decadent satisfaction. Jihoon settled at his side, the tenderness of the moment grounding him in ways he didn’t expect. Carefully he wiped Geonwoo clean, each touch slow and gentle, before lifting the glass to his lips. Allowing him to drink without having to lift a finger.

Geonwoo’s eyes fluttered half, hazy with the afterglow and molten with something softer than lust. He looked up at him as though Jihoon was the only thing holding his world together. It was breathtaking.

And then, just for a heartbeat, Jihoon’s brain let an image overlap reality: that video. That fucking video. Each frame suddenly painted over Geonwoo’s real body, real face, real surrender. His breath caught, eyes going wide in realization.

And Geonwoo caught it.

The docile, submissive facade cracked with a wicked curl of his lips. A grin, sharp and knowing, took its place as Geonwoo murmured, voice low and full of mischief: “Fantasy fulfilled, kitten?”

Jihoon froze, every thought scattering, his throat working around words that just wouldn’t come. He set the glass down hard on the nightstand before he surged forward and kissed Geonwoo like he was drowning. Deep, desperate, claiming.

“You are insane,” he muttered against Geonwoo’s mouth when he finally pulled back.

Geonwoo laughed, that warm, smug, musical sound that Jihoon wanted to hear for the rest of his life.

He couldn't help but think just how much better than that damn video the real thing was. No fantasy in the world could hold a candle to Geonwoo like this; messy, laughing, kissed breathless in his arms.

Chapter Text

Jihoon sat cross-legged on the bed, laptop open in front of him, but his thoughts were miles away.

He should have been doing literally anything productive before the teaser recording later, but instead, the only thing his mind was willing to focus on, besides the looming quarters, was the conversation he’d had with Minhyung a couple days ago.

Jihoon rubbed a hand over his face. He was still trying to make sense of the way his friend had spoken about casual hookups like they were simply part of his tournament routine.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Geonwoo’s voice came from the bathroom doorway, soft and amused.  

Jihoon looked up. “I’m just ... trying to not think about the fact that we have to eliminate each other so soon. This is the worst draw imaginable! And thinking about the tournament just brought me back to what Minhyung told me. About all his ... adventures.”

Geonwoo walked over, eyebrow raised. “Ah, that.” He dropped onto the bed beside Jihoon, the mattress dipping under his weight. “He made it sound like it’s just a normal Worlds tradition, didn’t he?”

Jihoon gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “Exactly! I’m shocked I never heard about any of this.”

“You,” Geonwoo said, nudging him lightly, “are just better than the rest of us. Too focused on the game to notice the circus around it.”

Jihoon scowled. “That’s not what I meant, I don’t judge or anything. I’m just confused how I missed it all these years. Have you ever taken part in … all that?”

Geonwoo grinned at the grumpiness, unbothered by the note of suspicion in Jihoon’s tone. “I’ve had offers,” he admitted, sitting down beside him on the bed. “Plenty, actually. But I’ve never been interested. Remember what I told you our first night? That I’m not into one-offs? That has always been true. Plus, I’ve never had much of a sex drive in general.”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow and gave him a pointed look.

Geonwoo laughed. “Alright, fine, I might have to retire that belief about myself, but that’s all your fault, kitten. Can’t keep my hands off you. But even then, it’s less about me. I like giving and caring for my partners. It’s why the dominant role comes so naturally. And it really doesn't mix well with casual hookups.”

He tilted his head, studying Jihoon. “What shocks me more is that nobody ever tried their luck with you. You’re gorgeous and a good chunk of players stare at you like you feature in their dreams.”

Jihoon frowned, opening his mouth to object, but then his mind replayed half a dozen moments that suddenly looked very different in hindsight: the requests for late-night VOD reviews and hopeful “teach me your tricks”, the oddly phrased questions about whether he preferred top or bot.

His eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“They weren't talking about top and bottom lanes …”

Geonwoo burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you really just didn’t notice?”

Jihoon’s expression flickered between embarrassment and disbelief. “I thought they just wanted to talk about the game and I wasn't all that interested!”

That only made Geonwoo laugh harder, falling back onto the bed and clutching at his stomach. “You are so sweet,” he managed between laughs. “And now you probably have quite the reputation. All those guys you rebuffed probably have the impression that you think you’re too good for them - which, to be fair, you are - but this is hilarious.”

Jihoon huffed, trying not to smile. “Glad that my social cluelessness entertains you so much. Maybe they should work on their communication skills.”

Still grinning, Geonwoo slid closer, looping an arm around him. “It’s adorable. And honestly?” His tone softened. “I’m glad you were oblivious. This way I got to be your first, show you the ropes, literally I might add, and have you all to myself now.”

Jihoon hesitated, his eyes flicking sideways. “So that’s … what we’re doing then? Just us?” His voice was quiet, almost a little uncertain. “No one else? How do Minhyung and Seonghoon fit into this?”

Geonwoo smiled - a small, steady one this time. “We’ve basically been dating without saying it out loud, haven’t we? I certainly haven’t so much as looked at anyone else and I don’t plan to. Why would I? You’re everything I could ever want.”

He hesitated a moment before continuing, honest as always. “Minhyung’s doing his own thing. He’s a very dear friend, but that’s it. And Seonghoon … well, you know what goes on between us. But if it ever bothers you, if you ever want me to stop-”

Jihoon cut him off with a scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous, I have no idea why I even brought it up. No, I don’t want you to stop. I knew who you are and what you do when I fell for you and it’s part of what makes you you, why would I try to change that now? That’s … pointless.”

Geonwoo’s expression brightened instantly, the relief on his face impossible to miss. “You’re the best!”

“Stop it,” Jihoon sputtered. “That should be common sense.”

“I still mean it.”

Jihoon actively tried to dodge the following affections, laughing at his boyfriend’s pout, but he just didn't think that that deserved such a strong reaction. “I like Seonghoon and I trust both of you. Besides, I doubt you could pay him to so much as kiss you with how he recoils every time Minhyung or I get too detailed in the group chat.”

“Not to mention,” Geonwoo added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “that he might be seeing someone right now.”

“What? How do I not know this?” Jihoon exclaimed, sitting up straighter.

Geonwoo laughed again. “Because they’re adorable and he wanted to enjoy their honeymoon phase undisturbed. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.”

Jihoon narrowed his eyes, already plotting. “I’m going to ask him!”

“... or you can also do that, but later,” Geonwoo teased. Then quieter, “Back to us. So nothing really changes?”

Jihoon looked down for a second before meeting his eyes again. “Just that I no longer have to bite my tongue every time I want to say I love you, I guess.”

Geonwoo froze for a heartbeat, then groaned, clutching dramatically at his chest. “That’s so cute. Did you really do that?”

Jihoon gently headbutted him for his over the top cooing. “Maybe. I just hate not being honest with you. That’s the only thing that is non-negotiable for me moving forward: honesty. Between us. No secrets, no pretending. You, me and sure, Minhyung and Seonghoon weirdly close, because they belong. But no one else, no one new. You’re mine now … right?”

Geonwoo’s grin softened into something warm and sure. "Yes, all yours. And for the record, you’re hot when you get all possessive.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward.

“No one else,” Geonwoo repeated quietly. “I’ve got everything I could ever want right here.”

“Charmer.”

“Nope,” Geonwoo said, reaching for Jihoon's hand, entwining their fingers, “just the truth.”

Jihoon smiled. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Geonwoo murmured. “Now, come here so I can show you just how much.”

Jihoon laughed, but didn’t resist when Geonwoo pulled him close.

“We should maybe tell Hyunjoon-hyung that he can't send anyone else your way.”

“Zeka, first I’ll sacrifice you.”

The words left Jihoon’s mouth crisp and perfectly enunciated, but they tasted like ash.

He had said plenty of things for show before. Trash talk came with the job; the producers loved it, because the fans loved it. But this time, the script felt wrong in a way that made his stomach knot.

They had filmed the rooftop shots earlier under the gray Shanghai sky. These recordings were never fully enjoyable to him, but they were easy by now. He knew how to act like someone untouchable, like a man convinced of his own inevitability.

But this line ... this one was different.

“Zeka, first I’ll sacrifice you.”

Even pretending to mean it hurt.

He didn’t want to imagine Geonwoo’s corresponding script, the writers had come up with. He didn’t want to think about how it would feel to have those words broadcast to millions, their rivalry twisted into narrative gold by people who knew nothing about what existed between them.

He didn't want to speak this way about Geonwoo. And definitely not about his Wangho-hyung either - the one who had steadied him through so many tough moments when they had been on the same team.

The trailer was built around the upcoming clash, the fated duel between two Korean teams at the height of their power, destined to destroy each other. It made for good drama, it was exactly the kind of story fans devoured.

“Okay, Chovy-seonsu,” the director said over the mic, cheerful and oblivious. “Let’s try one more. Give it a little more pride this time, yeah? Enjoy it!”

Right, I'm supposed to enjoy this ...

The red light blinked again. He straightened, forced his chin up and delivered the line one more time. Perfect cadence, perfect tone, perfect mask. 

“That’s it,” the director said, pleased. “Got it! You’re free to go.”

Outside the booth, the rest of the team waited for him. They all seemed relaxed. None of them had lines. 

Lucky bastards.

Jaehyuk looked up from his phone, studying him for a moment. “You good?” he asked, tone casual, but edged with concern.

Jihoon forced a small smile. “I’m fine, hyung. Just a little tired.”

Somewhere in the background, the trailer audio played again - his own voice, smooth and cold, saying: “Zeka, first I’ll sacrifice you.”

He winced. 

It wasn’t really the rivalry that hurt, but pretending it was all malice and ego when it was nothing like that? That made something twist painfully in his chest.

He wanted to win, he always did. He wanted that damn storybook ending that had eluded him for years. But victory meant defeat for Geonwoo and worse … the end of Wangho’s dream.

The teaser was just theater, just a performance, but someone really would have to lose.

Jihoon should be thinking about how close they were to the trophy, about all the hard work and the years that had led here - the near-misses, the not-good-enoughs, the heartbreaks.

He wanted to win.

He wanted the title, the validation, the trophy. But wanting that meant wanting to eliminate the people who had helped him become who he was now.

And could that really be called victory?

Later, Jihoon and Geonwoo lay facing each other on the bed. The curtains were drawn tight and it was pretty dark in the room. They didn’t even touch, as if that alone would have been too much stimulation for their frazzled minds right now. 

Geonwoo’s voice was quiet. “I didn’t like recording the teaser either.”

“No?”

“Not at all.” He turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “That line, ‘Chovy, what will you sacrifice to win?’ It made me feel … I don’t know. I get why they’re making it so personal, but it sucks sometimes. Not like we can do anything about it though.”

Jihoon watched the rise and fall of his chest. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I know the feeling.”

Geonwoo gave a small, humorless laugh. “Wangho-hyung wasn’t thrilled either. At least they let him sound somewhat kind. The whole thing was brutal though. Like they wanted it to hurt.”

Geonwoo turned toward him again, their faces close enough that Jihoon could see his own reflection in his eyes. “It’ll be alright,” he said quietly, as if trying to convince them both. “It’s not the first time we’ve faced each other. We’ll get through it.”

Jihoon didn’t answer, only nodded and the silence grew thick again until Geonwoo reached out, sliding an arm around him. Jihoon moved without thinking, fitting himself closer, tangling their legs together.

For a while they just stayed like that - two people trying to find peace in a world that wouldn’t stop demanding pieces of them.

Then Geonwoo stirred. “Wanna try something?”

Jihoon opened one eye. “Depends.”

“It helps me when my brain just doesn't shut up.” Geonwoo reached for his phone and earbuds from the nightstand. He handed one to Jihoon, who raised a brow but took it anyway.

When he put it in, he expected music, but what filled his ears instead was the sound of rain. The steady, soft pitter patter of water against leaves.

“No music?” Jihoon asked, surprise evident in his voice.

Geonwoo smiled, keeping his eyes closed. “Music’s too much when I’m stressed. This makes it a little easier to breathe.”

The rain was joined by other sounds of the forest. Jihoon let his eyes fall shut too. It reminded him of the hike they’d taken before playoffs, just the two of them, the world stripped down to wind, trees and rain.

Neither of them spoke for a long time, lost in the moment and each other.