Chapter Text
Sunghoon takes photos.
It sort of starts with Sunoo and his incessant whining, something about not having enough pictures of himself to post on instagram. Why this is Sunghoon’s problem is a question in itself.
“You’re a photography student,” Sunoo shouts whilst they’re in a library. “Please? I’d pay you in Chipotle.”
It’s not very convincing- Sunghoon can afford his own damn Chipotle and, frankly, wouldn't be surprised if he was the one that ended up paying, but he knows what Sunoo does when he’s desperate for something, and he’d rather not end up in the campus fountain again.
Long story.
“I want extra guac,” Sunghoon sighs.
It’s somewhat of a compromise- Sunghoon has an assignment due in a week on sports photography, and Sunoo has a dance recital coming up. So on Tuesday, bright breezy Tuesday, Sunghoon slips into the back of the dance studio and snaps away.
-----
Sunoo raves about the pictures. Sunghoon’s professor does too.
“I actually have an extra credit assignment for you, if you’re interested,” Professor Kim tosses nonchalantly after class. “My wife helps coach the soccer team, and they want some good shots for their social media pages.”
Sunghoon tries not to let his sheer surprise show. He didn’t even know she was married. “That sounds fun.”
Kim laughs a little bit as she fumbles around her desk for a notepad. “I’m pretty sure they’ve got practice today,” she scribbles a number quickly and hands it to him. “You can text her and ask about details.”
And this is how he ends up perched in the middle of the bleachers, his Nikon in hand, sweater pulled down over his fingers.
He only knows a handful of guys on the team, and familiar faces are the ones he hones in on first. A few snaps of Jongseong, Youngjae, Beomgyu. But overwhelmingly, Sunghoon fills up his SD card with shots of a stranger.
Number 15, floppy brown hair and something like an infectious smile, shines on the field. Sunghoon isn’t one to believe in fate, but there’s no denying this guy is proof of it. He plays like he was made to.
It’s a bit embarrassing. Coach Kim asks to see a few of his favorites, and twelve out of the thirty are of 15. She doesn’t mention it, but Sunghoon catches an amused glint in her eyes when she smiles at him.
“These are fantastic, Sunghoon,” Kim enthuses. “You have a real talent.”
No stranger to praise, Sunghoon beams back.
“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she continues, gesturing for him to follow as she walks further onto the field. “We were considering bringing you on for the full season, if you’re up for it.”
The head coach stands right at centerfield, Jongseong and Number 15 at his side, gaze set on a clipboard. They’re talking animatedly about plays when Coach Kim clears her throat.
“Gentlemen,” she chirps, a pleased smile crossing her face. Jongseong meets his eyes then with a surprised grin. “Sunghoon, Coach Jeon. Coach Jeon, Sunghoon.”
Coach Jeon reaches forward, shaking Sunghoon’s hand firmly. “Kim told you about staying on for the season?”
“Yes sir,” Sunghoon nods, slinging his camera bag over his shoulder. “I have a few academic commitments-”
“School comes first,” Jeon cuts, sounding oddly parental. “Jongseong can get you the schedule. There’s a few tournaments we’re gonna need you for, but home games are optional.”
Sunghoon nods along. He can feel extra eyes on him, extra eyes that aren’t Coach Kim or Jongseong, but he keeps his own gaze set firmly on Coach Jeon as he relays various details.
Finally, Jeon asks if Sunghoon has any questions.
“If I think of anything, I’ll bug Jongseong,” he smiles. “Thank you for the opportunity.”
Both coaches wave a kind goodbye as he turns to leave, Jongseong shouting something about meeting him for coffee later in the week to talk more specifics. But as Sunghoon walks off the field, someone jogs up beside him.
“Sorry, hey,” there’s a warm press of fingers against his wrist where he’s pushed up his sleeve. Sunghoon startles only slightly, flinching until he’s turned to face Number 15. “I meant to introduce myself earlier, I’m Jaeyun.”
“Oh,” Sunghoon says dumbly. “I’m Sunghoon.”
Jaeyun stares at him for a moment. Then, he laughs. “I- I know, Sunghoon, you’re one of Jongseong’s best friends and Coach Kim just introduced you to us.”
Oh. Sunghoon feels his cheeks warm. He’s so embarrassing. “Right,” he nods, huffing out a laugh himself at how weird this all is. “Nice to meet you, Jaeyun.”
His smile is blindingly bright up close. Sunghoon almost can’t look away. “Sorry, I know you probably have places to be, but I was just going to ask if I could see some of the photos.”
Oh. That makes sense. Obviously, if someone’s taking pictures of you for the next three months, you deserve to know that they’re gonna be worth your time.
“Yeah, of course,” Sunghoon unzips his bag, prying out his treasured Nikon and switching it on. “Honestly, I figured there’d be more… evaluation.”
“Jeon’s a quick hire,” Jaeyun snorts. “But Kim showed us your portfolio, and we know you’re good.”
Sunghoon crimsons again. Something about an entire soccer team going through his most intimate shots is… embarrassing.
“Well, I hope I don’t disappoint you,” he smiles thinly. Gallery finally open, Sunghoon turns his screen towards Jaeyun, who crowds closer.
They swipe through about 15 in silence, seven of which focus solely on Jaeyun, and Sunghoon’s brain goes blank. There’s a strange part of him that’s much more eager to impress Jaeyun than it was Coach Kim, and he holds his breath as Jaeyun inches a little closer, his shoulder pressing lightly into Sunghoon’s back.
“Wow,” Jaeyun whispers beside him. “You’re- these are amazing, Sunghoon.”
Sunghoon smiles widely. “It’s easier when I’ve got good subjects to work with.”
He doesn’t realize how flirty the words sound until they’ve left his mouth. They hang uncertainly between them for a moment, Jaeyun ultimately breaking the tension with a bright laugh.
“It definitely looks like you’ve got a favorite,” he winks, and before Sunghoon has time to blush, he’s stepping backwards. “I’ll see you around?”
Sunghoon raises his hand in a minute wave. He’s grinning, but it’s almost subconscious.
What the hell has he gotten himself into?