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The first time Hyunjoon meets Wooje, he doesn’t think much of him.
Sure, they were similar in age, but so were all the other kids in T1 Academy. Kids with terrible haircuts and smudged glasses, with gangly limbs and a whole lot of body odor.
Hyunjoon thinks it’s kind of funny, actually, how casually you meet people who ruin your life. There’s no dramatic music, no cinematic cutscene or blaring alarms. You meet them like every other person, and they just so happen to stick around while everyone else fades away. When Hyunjoon thinks back to all those faceless, forgotten people, he’d met them in the exact same way he had Wooje.
Except Wooje had stayed. For better or for worse.
Hyunjoon had been sitting at a computer, next to a rainbow-LED hellscape of other computers, when he’d glanced up and saw a kid standing awkwardly beside him.
Wooje had a mushroom haircut and a round face. There was a red smudge on the corner of his mouth, too—some kind of spicy dish, maybe.
Hyunjoon didn’t really know what to say. Soloqueue wasn’t popping, and he couldn’t just ignore him. He nodded in his direction.
“Hi,” the boy said.
“Hi,” Hyunjoon replied.
And that was the end of their conversation. Hyunjoon went back to staring at the League client, and Wooje wandered off to introduce himself to someone else.
There were other kids with mushroom haircuts that Hyunjoon had met that day, too. And while he could only remember Wooje, back then, he hadn’t remembered any of them.
He’d always been on edge. There was a dull, yet unrelenting current of anxiety that ran through him, materializing in the jerky way he bowed at everyone or how his knee bounced during scrims. Truth be told, Hyunjoon hadn’t paid much attention to anything except League. There were bigger, scarier, more important things he’d been thinking of—mainly, how he could stay.
The second time Hyunjoon met Wooje, they were sitting next to each other in a meeting room. The coach, or whoever they were waiting for, hadn’t shown up yet, and all the players were making clumsy, careful small-talk.
“Hey,” said Wooje, turning to look at him.
“Hey.”
“What position do you play?”
“Jungle. You?”
“Top.”
“Oh, haha, that’s cool. Maybe I’ll gank top sometime.”
“Thanks.”
And that was the end of their conversation. Wooje had turned around, and Hyunjoon went back to staring at his hands.
Looking back, Hyunjoon wondered why he’d been so stiff. He was louder, more confident, back home in Hwasun. If they’d just been just two guys in a classroom, Hyunjoon probably would’ve cracked a joke, maybe asked a few more questions.
But he and Wooje were two players out of a whole room of them—a room which would soon be cut in half, then quarter, then dwindle away until there were only five of them left. It was a truth that filled the silence between them, quieted their words and stiffened their tongues each time they made eye contact. Hyunjoon hated it, but felt too nervous to really care.
“All right, kids!” one of the staff said, poking their head through the doorway. “The coach will be here in just a sec, I think he’s just—”
“Right here!” a voice cried behind them. Dashing into the room, a man in sweatpants and a wrinkled t-shirt stopped in front of the table. He bowed, clutching a clipboard in one hand. Everyone bowed back.
“Hello, everyone!” the man said, slightly breathless. “I’m Kim Jeonggyun, also known as Kkoma. You can call me coach Kkoma, or anything else if you’d like. I wouldn’t mind ‘mom’, either.”
The players laughed awkwardly. Wooje laughed too.
“Anyways,” Jeonggyun continued. “Congrats on being selected! You probably know better than I do, but T1 is really, really hard to get scouted for. I’m confident that every single person here is one of the best talents in the world.”
Hyunjoon glanced around the room. Everyone’s faces were somber.
“While I’m only here for a minute, I do want to say something,” Jeonggyun continued. “I don’t need to tell you all to work hard, or else you wouldn’t be here. But please, everyone…” Jeongyun put his palms to the table and looked around the room.
“Don’t let the fact that some of you might leave stop you from being friends. League of Legends is a team game. So the sooner you all get comfortable, the better you’ll play.”
Hyunjoon nodded vigorously.
“That’s all!” Jeonggyun smiled, flashing everyone a thumbs up. “Don’t forget that everyone’s going out for dinner tonight! If you need anything, my door’s always open.”
And with that, he bowed again and hurried out the door. The room was quiet for a moment, before the players began shuffling out, pushing in chairs and avoiding eye contact.
Later that evening, Hyunjoon walked into the restaurant and spotted Wooje sitting with everyone else at a long table. There were seats all around, but Hyunjoon took the one next to him.
Hyunjoon had always thought romance movies were full of shit. Life was hardly full of heart-pounding, fateful encounters. Sometimes, life-changing events were so mundane Hyunjoon didn’t even think twice about them in the moment.
“Hey,” Hyunjoon murmured, taking a seat.
“Hey,” Wooje replied. They were quiet for a while, before Hyunjoon got sick of the silence and tried starting a conversation.
“That coach guy seemed pretty busy, huh?”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Mhm,” Hyunjoon said, leaning back in his chair a bit. “He hardly said anything before running off again. Guess the head coach doesn’t have time for trainees.”
“Totally,” Wooje nodded.
The sound of sizzling meat filled the air, and slowly, the room began to fill with chatter. Hyunjoon watched as one of the staff members began cutting chunks of pork.
“So where’re you from?” Wooje asked.
“Gwangju,” Hyunjoon replied. “Technically I was born in Hwasun, but no one’s heard of it. It’s near Gwangju, anyway. You?”
“Seoul. I’m basic like that.”
Hyunjoon smiled.
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Fifteen.”
“No way!” Hyunjoon grinned. “Me too!”
“I think all the other guys are about fifteen, though. Maybe older?”
“Totally. One of them’s even got a beard going on.”
“Wait, really? Who?”
“Uhh,” Hyunjoon faltered. “Forgot his name. I only remember his beard.”
Wooje smiled, before glancing up as people grabbed pork off the grill. The two plated their food, nodding politely at the staff to go first, before sitting down and digging in. Hyunjoon watched as Wooje ate—fast and messy, wolfing down his rice with almost comedic speed.
“Slow down,” Hyunjoon grinned, pointing his chopsticks at him. “It’s not like anyone’s gonna steal it from you.”
“I know,” Wooje mumbled through a mouthful. “But it’s a habit, I guess. My brother used to try and eat all the good bits of meat before I did.”
He swallowed and looked at Hyunjoon.
“Got any siblings?”
“I have an older sister."
“Lucky,” said Wooje, reaching for another piece of meat. “Older sisters are totally the best.”
“No way,” Hyunjoon replied, furrowing his brow. “She’s mean and grumpy all the time—and besides, most sisters don’t talk to you after they get older. Older brothers are so, so, so much better.”
“Nuh uh,” Wooje retorted. “My brother always tries wrestling with me even though he’s bigger. And he keeps stealing my stuff. Sisters treat you nicer, like a doll.”
“I wish I had someone to wrestle with,” Hyunjoon replied. “And trust me dude, you do not wanna be treated like a doll.”
“What, did she try dressing you up or something?”
Hyunjoon wrinkled his nose.
“She put lipstick on me. I couldn’t even wash it off, it just made like a red ring around my lips. I even went to school looking like a clown.”
Wooje laughed, and Hyunjoon snorted discontentedly.
“I mean, I was only in elementary school then, but still!” he said defensively. “Older brothers can play sports with you, y’know. And League, too.”
“I don’t like sports,” Wooje replied. “And besides, my brother doesn’t like League. He said it gave him a headache.”
“You don’t like sports?” Hyunjoon asked incredulously.
“Well, I mean, I like watching them.”
“Which ones?”
“Football. I really like Tottenham—”
“Dude!” Hyunjoon cried excitedly. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Tottenham is the best! ”
The rest of the night was filled with sports talk, the two chatting away eagerly about roster changes and upcoming matches. Every once in a while, Wooje would say something silly and Hyunjoon would let out a loud, ringing laugh, hitting the table so hard he’d attract a few stares before staring shyly at his hands. Slowly, the meat disappeared off their plates, and the sky grew dark from the restaurant window. Finally, the team stood up and began heading out the door.
“By the way,” said Wooje, breath fogging up the winter air. “What’s your name?”
Hyunjoon realized he hadn’t fully introduced himself.
“Moon Hyunjoon. You?”
“Wooje. Choi Wooje.”
Hyunjoon hadn’t thought much about it back then, but he realized now how much that name fit him. Maybe it had something to do with the vowels in it, but Wooje’s name matched his face perfectly. Maybe that was why it was the first name Hyunjoon remembered.
The next few weeks were full of scrims, scrims, soloqueue, and maybe a quick nap or two in between. They sat in the order of Top, Jungle, Mid, etc., so Hyunjoon would sometimes lean over and flash Wooje a grin after a particularly clean gank. It was fun, really.
However, soloqueue would soloqueue, and Hyunjoon would occasionally be left with a zero-five Maokai and 5k gold gap fifteen minutes into the game. When that happened, he’d let out a long, aggressive sigh and hit his keyboard—sometimes a bit harder than he’d like to admit.
Once, after a particularly horrible game, Wooje leaned over and tapped his shoulder.
“Hey, dude.”
“Hm?” Hyunjoon grumbled, turning to look at him.
“You sigh a lot, you know that?”
“And?”
“And you like, hit your keyboard.”
Hyunjoon nodded, waiting for Wooje to finish.
“So I was wondering…do people think you’re scary?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, you don’t talk to anyone else. And it doesn’t seem like anyone’s coming over to talk to you, either.”
“What?” Hyunjoon snorted. “You think I’m scaring them away?”
He paused, thinking back to the past few weeks. Now that he thought of it, other than Wooje, no one else had approached him besides introductions.
“Just sayin’, dude,” Wooje shrugged, turning back to his screen. “The whole room can hear you, y’know.”
Turning back to his game, Hyunjoon pushed the thought away and clicked “Accept Match” for the hundredth time. Ten minutes in, however, and he began thinking again. His brow furrowed.
“Hey, Wooje?”
“Hm?”
“Do you think I’m scary?”
Wooje paused and looked at him. Then, without warning, he broke into a wide smile.
“You? ” he laughed.
“Hey!” Hyunjoon yelped. “Don’t say it like that! I was just wondering…”
“Nah, nah, don’t worry,” Wooje sighed, shaking his head. “Honestly, I thought you were a little scary at first. But not anymore.”
While Hyunjoon didn’t know why, those words made him feel satisfied enough that he ganked top three times, all successfully.
Sitting behind a gray screen, Hyunjoon felt his knee begin shaking under the table. They were down in kills, down in gold, and all on their first damned broadcasted game of the year. Cameras were trained on their champions while a bunch of casters laughed and commented on what kind of “rookie” they were. This was the moment Hyunjoon needed to show off—to prove what he was really capable of.
Running out of the fountain, Hyunjoon clicked around the map and glanced at toplane. He saw the enemy Rumble at half-health, no flash, no ult.
“Baron in thirty!” a voice said.
“Hey, Wooje,” Hyunjoon called out.
“Yeah?”
“Set up in the bush. I wanna gank top.”
“Hold up,” said another voice. “It’s too risky, Azir is really close and has—”
“Okay,” Wooje replied.
Hyunjoon watched as he landed a few combos on the Rumble, bringing their health down even lower, before setting up in the bush.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
Charging into toplane, Hyunjoon corralled the Rumble and exchanged blows, pushing the limit of his health, before finally landing a perfect Q and getting the kill. He grinned. The Rumble had been high value, and now they’d be down in CS—
Suddenly, he noticed a TP over a ward near the bush. His heart quickened, then immediately sank as the Azir appeared, followed by the other team’s jungler.
“Crap!” one voice said over call. “Back away, back away! This doesn’t look good—”
“It’s okay, I got it.”
Hyunjoon’s eyes widened as Wooje dove in—landing a perfect combo and tanking the Azir autos. Then, with a well timed shot, he landed the execute and killed him. Hyunjoon ran in after Wooje, knocking up the jungler before ulting, and with the help of Wooje, also got the kill.
“Hell yeah!” a voice said excitedly after a few moments. “How the fuck did you do that? I swear Hyunjoon was gonna die there!”
Grinning, Hyunjoon glanced over at Wooje. Wooje flashed him a smile.
“Maybe I should gank top more often,” Hyunjoon laughed.
Slowly but surely, the weeks turned into months, and then the months into one whole year. New developments occurred. Hyunjoon had long forgotten his initial shyness, and more astonishingly, had actually managed to learn everyone’s names. Or at least, close to everyone’s. There was Changdong, who reminded him of a loud, hyper fox, and El-lim, who seemed quiet until he logged onto League. There was also Wonyeong, Mincheol, and Jeong-tae, too—but even for a whole year, Hyunjoon hadn’t really talked to them.
There was also Minhyung. Hyunjoon couldn’t really get a read on the guy, even after watching him from afar. He also struck him as the cocky type—zealous and proud, and as a result Hyunjoon hadn’t really talked to him either.
For that first year at T1, it was just him and Wooje.
They sat together, ate together, duoed together, and went on late-night snack runs in the freezing cold, giggling and shushing each other as they snuck back into the building.
“Man,” Wooje murmured one night, his mouth full of food. “We’re gonna get fat at this rate, aren’t we?”
He was sitting on the floor of Hyunjoon’s dorm, eating chips and chewing loudly. Across from him, Hyunjoon was tearing open another bag.
“Don’t say that,” Hyunjoon replied, popping a gummy in his mouth. “I heard that before you’re twenty, you have enough metabolism to digest food in ten seconds flat. So we should take advantage of that before we get old.”
“There’s no way that’s true!” Wooje protested. “Seriously, my mom told me that if you get fat enough, your blood will turn to sugar and you’ll die .”
“That’s called diabetes, dumbass,” said Hyunjoon. He leaned over and offered him the bag of gummies. “That only happens if you get really fat.”
Wooje looked at the bag, before finally reaching in and grabbing a handful.
“It’s your fault if I get diabetes,” he mumbled between chews.
“That’s fine,” Hyunjoon replied coolly. “You can get fat and look fine. I’m the one that’s gotta watch out.”
“Whaddya mean?”
“Well,” said Hyunjoon, cocking his head. “You’ve got a marshmallow face.”
“A what? ”
“Marshmallow face. It’s when your face is really round and soft-looking, so when you get fat, no one can tell.”
“Dude,” Wooje stared at him. “Are you saying I look obese?”
“Nah,” Hyunjoon shook his head earnestly. “Not at all. You could lose a hundred pounds and still have a marshmallow face. It’s part of your DNA.”
Wooje stopped chewing and looked at him. Then, without warning, he reached over and threw a handful of gummies in his face.
“Woah—!” Hyunjoon yelped, jerking away. “What was that for—?!”
“For saying I’ve got a marshmallow face,” Wooje deadpanned. “Who would wanna have something like that? What if I called you peanut-head, hm? How ‘bout that?”
“What?!” Hyunjoon squawked indignantly. “That’s completely different!”
“Nuh-uh. It’s the same thing. It’s even a food, too.”
“No, I-I mean, like,” Hyunjoon sputtered. “Peanuts are way worse! Are you saying I got a weird-shaped head?”
Wooje broke into a grin.
“Well, you know how headphones sometimes leave an indent in your head…”
“Aw, fuck off!” Hyunjoon cried, tossing a gummy in Wooje’s face. “I do not have headphone hair!”
“Do too.”
“No way!” Hyunjoon groaned. “Besides, having a marshmallow face isn’t an insult. It means you look cute.”
Wooje wrinkled his nose at him.
“Ew. Why would I want that? ”
“Well, you could probably get a girlfriend easier.”
Wooje paused and cocked his head, as if he were seriously considering it. Then, he nodded slowly.
“I guess you’re right. Girls like cute things, don’t they?”
“Totally. You’d be all the rage.”
Suddenly, Hyunjoon let out a snicker. He cleared his throat quickly. Wooje stared. Hyunjoon tried suppressing the smile on his face.
Then, without warning, Wooje lunged at him—knocking Hyunjoon over and wrestling him onto the floor.
“You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?!” he cried threateningly, pulling Hyunjoon into a headlock. Hyunjoon cackled and laughed, trying to twist out of Wooje’s arm.
“N-no, not at all!” he gasped. “Seriously, girls would go crazy over you! You’d be irresistible!”
Holding Hyunjoon down with one arm, Wooje reached into the bag of gummies and grabbed a handful. He pressed them against Hyunjoon’s pursed lips, grinning maniacally. Laughing with his mouth closed, Hyunjoon fought and squirmed until he pulled himself out of Wooje’s grip, before flipping Wooje onto his back and pinning him to the floor.
“Foul!” Wooje laughed, wrestling against Hyunjoon. “That’s not allowed!”
“Is too,” Hyunjoon replied breathlessly. “You started it.”
Reaching over, Hyunjoon grabbed another bag and tore it open with his teeth. Suddenly, he paused, staring at its packaging. He broke into a grin.
Then, he collapsed to the floor, cackling like a maniac while clutching his side.
“W-what?” Wooje murmured, getting up and reaching for the bag.
“T-they’re…” Hyunjoon gasped, tears forming in his eyes.
“They’re marshmallows!”
Looking back, Hyunjoon felt those Academy days were some of the best of his whole life. It was fun—getting to play League all day, eating good food and getting takeout chicken every time they won a scrim, sneaking into each other’s dorms and playing Tekken until the sun shone through the curtains. And even though there was that heavy, unspoken truth that lingered in the room, for the most part, Hyunjoon forgot about it.
By the end of the year, he’d warmed up to Changdong and El-lim enough to include them in their late-night snack runs. They’d celebrated their birthdays together, first at a restaurant and then at 12 AM in their dorm rooms.
Wooje had turned sixteen a month later than him, and Hyunjoon had gloated how technically , he was his senior.
Sitting on the floor of Hyunjoon’s dorm room, Wooje stared down at the cake beneath him. The lights were off, and the only thing that illuminated the room were birthday candles. Hyunjoon found it kind of funny how the light shone on Wooje’s face—creating soft, warm patches along its gentle curves, as if his features weren’t sharp enough to accommodate shadows.
“Happy birthday, Woojeng!” Changdong cheered from atop Hyunjoon’s bed.
“They grow up so fast,” El-lim sighed from beside him. “I think I can see grey hairs already.”
Sitting at the very far corner of Hyunjoon’s mattress, Minhyung laughed and shook his head.
“Happy birthday, Wooje,” he smiled.
It’d been Wooje’s idea to invite Minhyung, and while Hyunjoon hadn’t objected, he was still wary of him. However, he’d grown to accept him over the past year. To some extent.
“Blow out the candles already, dude!” Hyunjoon whined, scooting closer to Wooje. “There’s wax dripping all over the cake!”
“It’s my birthday,” Wooje replied smugly. “I can do whatever I want.”
“Well you’re gonna poison us at this rate!” Hyunjoon exclaimed. “Wax contains a lot of mini-plastics that make you really sick. Are you saying you want us all to die? ”
Wooje paused and looked at him. Then, he glanced down at the cake.
“Wait, seriously? ” he murmured, brow furrowing.
“Hyunjoon ,” Changdong groaned. “Stop lying to the poor boy. It’s fine, Wooje. You probably won’t get sick even if you ate a whole box of them.”
Wooje stuck his tongue out at Hyunjoon before closing his eyes. He put his hands together and went quiet.
“What, is he praying or something?” El-lim whispered.
“He’s making a wish,” Minhyung whispered back. “You’re supposed to make one before you blow out the candles, y’know.”
Wooje was completely still for a few long seconds. Then, finally, he leaned in and blew.
“Damn!” Hyunjoon groaned, reaching over to pull the candles out. “Thought the dorms would burn down before you finished.”
“So,” El-lim piped up. “What’d you wish for?”
Wooje grinned.
“I wished that we’d all stay together and play on the starting roster.”
“Don’t jinx it!” Hyunjoon yelped, clapping a hand over Wooje’s mouth. “You can’t say wishes out loud, or else they won’t come true!”
“Wait,” Wooje mumbled from behind Hyunjoon’s hand. “Seriously?”
“Dude,” Changdong sighed. “Don’t be superstitious. That’s just a wives tale…besides,” He smiled.
“I think we’re all gonna stay, right? We’re absolutely destroying everyone right now.”
Wooje nodded, and turned to look at Hyunjoon—when he was suddenly met with a glob of frosting to the face.
“W-wha—!” Wooje sputtered, breaking into a grin.
“Happy birthday!” Hyunjoon replied gleefully.
“Get over here!”
Wooje reached over and grabbed a chunk of the cake, and Hyunjoon immediately scooted away.
“Nuh uh!” Hyunjoon cackled. “Only the birthday boy gets cake on their face! It’s tradition!”
“I don’t care!” Wooje cried. He dove towards Hyunjoon and immediately smashed the cake onto his chin, giggling as Hyunjoon yelped and groaned.
“Dude!” Hyunjoon squawked. “This is a new shirt! I can’t believe you’d just—”
Without warning, Hyunjoon reached over and smushed another handful of cake onto Wooje’s cheek. Wooje almost fell over with surprise, and the whole room burst into laughter.
“Stop it, you two!” Changdong gasped. “There’s gonna be nothing left to eat!”
“It’s Hyunjoon’s fault!” Wooje replied indignantly, licking the frosting off the corner of his mouth.
“No, it’s both of ours,” Hyunjoon said, wiping the cake off his face. “Wait, hold on. Lemme get something real quick.”
Hyunjoon stood up and hurried out of the room. Wooje looked around, confused.
“Is it another cake or something?” he called out. “I swear, dude, if it’s a prank—”
Wooje paused as Hyunjoon walked in with a strange, misshapen ball of wrapping paper.
“The hell’s that…?” Changdong asked. “Did you dig around in the trash can or something?”
“It’s my gift to Wooje,” Hyunjoon replied huffily. “And no, I didn’t. I wrapped it myself.”
He glanced down at Wooje, only to find him smiling. Smiling in a way that was different from his usual cheshire-cat grins, or the smug faces he made when he proved Hyunjoon wrong. Smiling in that, he looked truly, wonderfully happy.
“Wait, seriously?” Wooje murmured.
“Mhm. Who else would it be for?”
Reaching out, Wooje took the present in his hands and began unwrapping it carefully.
“You can just tear into it, y’know,” Hyunjoon said from beside him. “I dunno if I wrapped it that well…”
“It’s common courtesy, you brute,” Wooje replied, not looking up from the gift. Finally, he tore away the last layer and pulled out what looked like a yellow duck plushie.
“A…duck?” said El-lim. “Why’s it got three strands of hair on its head?”
“Psyduck!” Wooje cried, face lighting up. “Dude, you got me a Psyduck? ”
“You have no idea how hard it was to find,” Hyunjoon groaned. “I had to walk around the market district for an entire day—”
He paused as he saw Wooje’s face, before looking away hastily.
“Dude, it’s not that amazing…” Hyunjoon mumbled. “It’s just a stuffed animal, y’know.”
“You have no idea!” Wooje grinned. “Psyduck’s like…the best Pokemon ever! ”
He squished the top of the Psyduck’s head and looked over at Hyunjoon. Hyunjoon hadn’t really noticed it before, but Wooje’s eyes were brighter than the average human being’s. Brighter than anyone's he’d ever met, actually. And right now, those two glittering eyes were staring right at him. Smiling.
“Thanks dude, seriously,” Wooje laughed.
“Y-you’re welcome…” Hyunjoon murmured. Then, he thought of something and scooted closer to Wooje.
“Hey, dude.”
“Hmm?”
“Y’know, it’s also normal for people to share wishes on your birthday.”
“There’s no way that’s true…”
“Is too. You wanna hear mine for you?”
“Sure, I guess.”
Hyunjoon leaned over and whispered in his ear.
“I wish that we’ll stick together until the day we retire. Let’s be the best top-jungle duo in the world, okay?”
A few months later, Wooje’s wish came true. Hyunjoon, him, and the other guys were given a chance to play on the T1 starting roster—-which at the time had felt so unreal to Hyunjoon that he’d stumbled around in a daze for a week.
It was inevitable, really, now that Hyunjoon thought of it. He and Wooje had been two of the most anticipated-for rookies, their synergy so good that commentators sang their praises during each game. Wooje had always been a bit flashier, however, and had claimed the title of “golden rookie” for himself, much to his delight and Hyunjoon’s annoyance.
Crowded around a small table, he and Wooje sat amongst the other promoted trainees at a BBQ restaurant.
“Cheers to moving up in the world!” Changdong sighed, raising a beer. “Let’s celebrate, y’all! We’ve seriously made it.”
“Don’t get too comfortable,” El-lim piped up near his elbow. “It’s a ten-man roster. We’ll be swapped and switched around like crazy. And technically, we’re still Challengers players.”
“Still!” Changdong chirped. “If we play well, then maybe we’ll get promoted onto the main roster!”
“It’ll be hard, though,” Minhyung murmured through a mouthful of rice. “We might not get much playing time if it’s a rotation of people.”
“Wait, but does that mean we get to play with Faker?” asked Wooje, wide-eyed.
“Duh,” said Hyunjoon, sitting beside him. “He’s literally T1 itself. That’s why people wanna come here.”
“That’s so sick!”
“Mhm,” Changdong sighed, raising his glass again. “So let’s celebrate! We’ve got a long road ahead of us. Bottoms up!”
The five of them clinked their drinks together and took long, happy gulps.
“Man,” said Changdong, letting out a hiss. “This stuff burns.”
“Dude,” El-lim murmured, wiping a line of beer froth off his upper lip. “We’re the only nineteen-year olds here. You’re talking about beer while these kiddos are drinking apple juice.”
“Hey!” Hyunjoon yelped. “The hell you mean ‘apple juice’? ”
“It’s called soda, guys,” said Minhyung flatly.
“Besides, we’re gonna get to drink too, someday!” Wooje piped up, stuffing a hunk of pork in his mouth.
“Yeah,” Changdong snorted. “In like, three years.”
“You guys have no idea,” said El-lim. “There’s a lot of really awesome stuff you get to do when you’re our age.”
“For example…” Changdong grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. El-lim groaned and slapped him on the back of the head.
“No way you guys get play,” Wooje deadpanned. “If you haven’t noticed, we play League twelve hours a day. Nobody would ever date you.”
“You’d be surprised, actually,” said Changdong. “Your hyungs are more experienced than you think…”
“Oh yeah?” Hyunjoon challenged. “Then how many girlfriends have you had? I bet you’ve never even had one—”
“Three,” said Changdong proudly.
“Three? ” the whole table screeched.
“Wait, seriously?” said Wooje, balking at him. “When? Where did you meet them?”
“I met the first two in high school, of course,” Changdong grinned. “And then I met this girl before coming to T1. We’re still dating, actually.”
“Damn,” El-lim muttered. “Guess I underestimated you. You’re crazy, man…”
“Wait,” said Hyunjoon. “Does that mean that…?”
Changdong’s voice dropped to a whisper, and he smiled mischievously.
“You kids have no idea,” he grinned. “But you aren’t a man until you’ve done it with a girl. I won’t go into details, but…”
The whole table was now leaning in, staring at him with varying degrees of interest and disbelief.
“It’s totally different than porn,” he finished.
“Well duh,” said Hyunjoon, furrowing his brow. “Of course it is.”
“What about you guys?” said Changdong. “Got any girls before? Dating anyone?”
El-lim snorted and shook his head.
“Look at them, man,” he groaned. “They’re staring at you like you’re a god. Of course they’ve never dated anyone.”
“U-untrue!” Hyunjoon sputtered, face turning red. “I’ve dated before! Just not…to that extent.”
Up until then, Hyunjoon had been confessed to exactly once. It was some girl in his class, a girl he didn’t really know, and they dated for one whole week before she got bored and broke up with him. Even though it’d been casual and kind of silly, Hyunjoon still cried for two days straight.
Hyunjoon thought girls were pretty. Girls were sweet-smelling and elusive, flirty and hard to read. He’d had crushes before, but never the balls to confess. When he hung out with friends, however, they’d always joke and lie about their experiences, talking about their ideal girl or much less…appropriate things. Hyunjoon hadn’t thought much of it up until now.
“Of course you haven’t,” El-lim replied evenly. “You’re sixteen. I’d be surprised if you weren’t a virgin.”
Wooje turned to look at Hyunjoon with a shocked expression.
“You’ve dated before?” he asked, eyes wide.
“Don’t act like it’s that surprising,” Hyunjoon muttered, ears turning red. “I’m more popular than you think.”
“Poor girl,” Wooje sighed, grinning. “I bet you two didn’t even last a week.”
“H-hey!” Hyunjoon yelped defensively. “The hell do you mean by that?! Besides, you probably haven’t dated anyone at all!”
“I’m waiting for the right person,” Wooje said proudly. “I’m not gonna even gonna hold hands until I find my perfect type.”
“Dude,” Changhyun groaned, sliding his hand over and patting his arm. “You’re gonna end up single for the rest of your life if you think that. Don’t believe the shit you see in romance movies. It ain’t gonna happen.”
“Don’t burst his bubble,” El-lim sighed. “He’s only sixteen, dude. Let him figure it out once he’s thirty.”
“You guys act like true love is impossible,” Wooje pouted. “Unlike y’all, I’m actually worried about getting rejected.”
“Anyways,” said Changhyun. He turned to look at Minhyung. “You’ve been awfully quiet, Mr. Lee. Got anything to add?”
“Yeah,” Hyunjoon added. “Why’re you so silent? Have you dated before?”
Minhyung glanced up from his food in surprise. He paused, thinking.
“Well, no. But I’ve been confessed to a few times, I suppose.”
“Really?” Changhyun prodded. “How many?”
“Sixteen.”
“What?!” the whole table screeched.
Those warm, relaxed moments in the restaurant, however, were the only calm memories Hyunjoon had of that ten-man roster. As soon as he’d stepped foot into the LCK, the constant thrum of anxiety returned. For the entire year, he’d wake up, grind soloqueue, stress eat, grind soloqueue, and then go to one of the team meetings.
It was hell, in Hyunjoon’s opinion.
For one, he hardly got subbed in. In the beginning, Hyunjoon was almost-perma benched while T1’s starting jungler, Woochan, played. It stung a bit more than he’d ever admit—seeing Wooje and Minhyung subbing in more often, getting flashy plays and solokills.
His debut game went less well than he’d hoped, too. While they still won, Hyunjoon felt frustrated with his performance—that he could’ve played so, so, so much better.
It all came to a boil in a game against Liiv Sandbox. Hyunjoon had been subbed in, miraculously, as well as Wooje and Minhyung. He’d picked Lee Sin—one of his best, most flashy champions.
“Mic check, mic check,” Wooje grinned, messing around with his headphones. “Wooje to Oh-jun, how’s the audio?”
“Shitty as always,” Hyunjoon replied, adjusting his mouse settings.
“Don’t sweat it, dude,” said Minhyung. “Just stay calm.”
“Easy for you to say,” Hyunjoon muttered. “You got POG last game.”
“That was ‘cuz Sanghyeok-hyung carried,” Wooje chirped. “Seriously, it’s fine. Just gank top and I’ll make you look amazing.”
Hyunjoon let out a small, unconvincing laugh and clicked into the ban-pick screen.
As it turns out, Hyunjoon really did take Wooje’s advice. They were down in kills and gold again, and this time it was a real game with real spectators—so Hyunjoon definitely, totally, wasn’t sweating bullets. He clicked into toplane and saw the enemy toplaner at half health, no flash, and no ult. It was the same story. What wasn’t the same, however, was that the support was also roaming top.
“Wooje,” he called out.
“Hm?”
“I’m ganking top. Back me up if things go south.”
“Hold on,” Wooje replied. “I just backed and don’t have TP. Let me walk back first—”
“Sure.”
And that’s when Hyunjoon dove in. He engaged onto the two of them, pressing a few buttons and immediately sending the support to the fountain. However, the toplaner landed a few clean hits, and Hyunjoon was down to half health.
Suddenly, his tunnel vision cleared. Running out of the jungle and straight towards him was the enemy jungler and midlaner.
“Dude!” Minhyung yelled over the call. “Back away! You’re gonna get caught—”
It was at that very moment that Hyunjoon popped Sonic Wave and dashed into a 3 v 1.
Landing a few combos, Hyunjoon juked and dodged before using his ult and getting the kill on the toplaner. His health dropped, however, as the jungler hit him with a few autos. He could hear people yelling in call, but it washed over him like static. He kept engaging.
Then, just as he was about to die, Wooje swooped in and tanked for him—securing a kill on the midlaner and sending the jungler running. Hyunjoon blinked a few times, before letting out a cry of triumph.
“Hell yeah!” he shouted. “Carry Wooje!”
“Dude,” Wooje sighed, hitting minions while Hyunjoon backed. “Would it have killed you to wait until I returned to lane?”
“It’s fine,” Hyunjoon grinned. “I just got the highlight reel of the century.”
“Guys,” Minhyung called out. “Let’s turn this into Baron.”
“Or the riskiest play award,” Wooje muttered. “That could’ve been really embarrassing.”
“It’s fine,” said Hyunjoon proudly. “I wasn’t getting 3 v 1’d. They were getting 1 v 3’d.”
And so, the year went by in a blur—-a never ending torrent of anxiety and sleepless nights, of nerve-wracking games and a whole lot of soloqueue. Soloqueue, soloqueue, a few scrims in between, and then maybe a meal when he remembered to eat. Towards the end of the year, every interaction between the players felt like a lit bomb—the fuse only snuffed out once one of them walked away. Like every moment in his entire career, Hyunjoon knew, and everyone else knew. Some of them would be leaving.
While Hyunjoon would never admit it, those months had been the closest he’d ever been to quitting. It was hard—more stress than he’d ever known. There was only one thing that was really, truly, the same as it had always been.
Wooje.
Sneaking out of his room one night, Hyunjoon crept down the hall and knocked on Wooje’s door. The clock on the wall read 1 AM.
Wooje opened the door, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
“Mm?” he grumbled, blinking a few times. “Whaddya need, Oh-jun?”
“Do you want to go to the Han River with me?”
“What?”
Approximately an hour later, the two stood on the rocky banks of the most romantic river in Korea. The sky was almost pitch-black, the only light being the cityscape blinking before them, reflecting across the river’s shining water. Hyunjoon watched as his breath fogged up the air. He shivered.
“So why did you wanna come here?” Wooje asked from beside him. “It’s asscrack dawn, dude. Roster decisions are coming out tomorrow.”
“Well,” Hyunjoon sighed. He tilted his head to the sky. “That’s exactly why I wanted to, I guess. Just needed to clear my head.”
Wooje nodded and turned back towards the water. The two stared across the river, at the dark, rippling waves, until Hyunjoon finally broke the silence.
“Hey, Wooje?”
“Mm?”
“What would you think if one of us made the cut, and the other didn’t?”
Wooje was quiet for a few moments. Then,
“That won’t happen.”
“Huh?” asked Hyunjoon, furrowing his brow. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because you haven’t gotten your wish yet.”
Wooje turned to him and smiled. Even though it was dark, Hyunjoon could see the light reflected in his eyes.
“You said we’d become the best duo in the world, didn’t you?”
Hyunjoon paused. He stared at him— stared at that lopsided grin, the way his cheeks puffed up when he smiled, the cold, pink flush of his skin.
Hyunjoon stared and stared until the silence felt awkward enough to force the next words out of his mouth.
“I did,” he whispered.
“You’re right, Wooje. We’re gonna make that fucking roster, one-hundred percent.”
Laughing, Wooje grabbed his wrist and began pulling him down towards the riverside.
“Woah–!” Hyunjoon yelped, stumbling. “H-hold on! It’s too cold to swim—”
Wordlessy, Wooje dragged him further and further until they were mere inches away from the water. Then, he sat down on a rock, beckoning Hyunjoon to do the same.
“You know,” Wooje murmured once Hyunjoon obliged. “I never once doubted that we’d both get chosen.”
“Huh?”
“You’re really strong, Hyunjoon. Even when nobody seems to care, even when nobody acknowledges it, you keep working hard. You keep going. ”
Wooje’s words were soft— barely there in the cold, night air. Hyunjoon could only stare across the water, feeling Wooje’s presence beside him. They were close. So, so, so close.
“Y’know, I once heard that no matter what, no matter when, the universe will always recognize your hard work. Always.”
Looking back, those words had stuck in Hyunjoon’s mind more than anything else, despite the years gone by, despite everything. They went straight to his heart.
“So trust it.”
Hyunjoon looked down at the water, at the waves lapping at the gravel.
“Thanks,” he whispered.
Then, there was silence, like a fluffy blanket wrapping around them. The two stared out across the river at the bustling city. The world was spinning, hurtling through space at a million miles per hour, but now—now everything was still. Now, everything was just him and Wooje.
Then, like a swift intake of breath, Hyunjoon felt something on his shoulder.
Wooje had put his head on it. His head was heavier than expected, and Wooje’s hair tickled his jaw. But no matter how many things Hyunjoon found to complain about, he couldn’t bring himself to move.
Once, a long, long time ago, Hyunjoon had held a baby chick in his hands. He’d felt its beating heart right through its skin—could feel the life coursing through it in his palms. Hyunjoon had been scared out of his mind that he’d crush it. That one wrong move, and the chick’s thrumming, quivering body would go still.
This moment, this trembling, tender moment, was exactly what he’d felt back then. That if he moved, even just an inch, the person beside him would disappear.
Hyunjoon froze, feeling the weight of Wooje on his shoulder.
It was terrifying. But god, was it perfect.
Hyunjoon woke up the next morning to his phone buzzing near his ear. He groaned, rolled over, and brought it to his face. His vision was blurry—blurry enough that he couldn’t make out the caller ID.
“Hello?” he mumbled groggily
“Hi, is this Moon Hyunjoon?”
Hyunjoon recognized the voice immediately. He shot up, sitting perfectly upright, and blinked. His hands trembled.
“Y-yup, that’s me.”
“Perfect! This is Kim Jeonggyun, T1’s head coach,” the voice replied. “We’ve met before, I’m sure. If it’s not too much trouble, could you come down to the headquarters?”
Hyunjoon’s heart sped up.
“Of course!”
Tumbling out of bed, Hyunjoon got ready faster than he ever had in his entire life, tripped over his own feet, and sprinted out the door.
Arriving at Jeonggyun’s office, Hyunjoon stopped to catch his breath before knocking.
“Come in!”
Hyunjoon opened the door and bowed. He was then beckoned in and took a seat.
“Hello, Hyunjoon,” Jeonggyun said politely. “I’m sure you know by now what this meeting means. I hope you didn’t worry too much.”
“N-not at all,” Hyunjoon stammered, lying between his teeth. Jeonggyun smiled.
“That’s good to hear. Well Hyunjoon, I’m glad to say that you’ve been selected for T1’s 2022 main roster. Welcome to the team.”
Hyunjoon’s mind went blank. Then,
“What about Wooje?”
“Hm?”
Hyunjoon bowed his head.
“S-sorry for being so direct,” he murmured. “But if it’s okay for me to ask…did Wooje also get picked?”
Jeonggyun paused, cocking his head at him. Then, slowly, he broke into a smile.
“Well, while I’m usually not allowed to tell you, I understand that you two are great friends. And since I was planning on calling Wooje up right after you, I might as well tell you...”
Jeonggyun grinned.
“I wouldn’t worry about being separated, Hyunjoon. I have plans to make you two the best top-jungle duo in the world.”
And just like that, 2022 started with a nuclear bang. It was euphoric, actually, playing with everyone and everything Hyunjoon could’ve ever wanted.
Well, close to everything.
Minhyung had made the cut, but Changdong and El-lim left, along with most of the other Challenger players. They had a new support, too, freshly imported from DRX.
Hyunjoon had quickly grown to like him— liked his spunk and his bright, chestnut brown eyes. And of course there was Sanghyeok. Hyunjoon didn’t really know what to think of him.
“Don’t be so shy,” Wooje had groaned. “You were like this with Minhyung, too.”
He put on a mockingly deep, exaggerated voice.
“‘He’s too arrogant’”, Wooje grumbled. “‘Hyunjoon no like him’.”
“Hey!” Hyunjoon yelped. “I do not speak like that!”
“Whatever,” Wooje grinned, “just give him a chance. You might actually end up vibing together."
Back then, Hyunjoon should’ve suspected Wooje was a psychic, because lo and behold—he did end up liking Sanghyeok…all with the help of a little alcohol.
It was the first dinner as a team, and the five of them were walking to a hotpot place Sanghyeok had recommended. While Hyunjoon didn’t really like hotpot, he’d happily agreed when Sanghyeok suggested it, too shy to say otherwise. They got to the door, and Sanghyeok held it open for them.
“It’s okay hyung,” Minseok murmured. “You can go first.”
“No really, it’s fine,” Sanghyeok insisted gently.
The four of them walked in awkwardly and sat down at a booth. Hyunjoon glanced at Wooje, who seemed perfectly unphased.
“So,” Sanghyeok murmured, looking at the menu. “Anything you’d prefer?”
Hyunjoon looked around as the four of them sat in silence, staring at each other. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Hyunjoon felt his head would explode if he didn’t say something.
“Uh, whatever’s cheapest, sir,” he mumbled quietly.
“No need to call me sir,” Sanghyeok replied, smiling. “It makes me feel like a grandpa.”
“Sorry.”
Wooje elbowed Hyunjoon from under the table.
“What?” he hissed.
“That was a joke!” Wooje whispered back. “Don’t apologise for everything, or else it’s gonna be super awkward!”
“Then what else am I supposed to do?” Hyunjoon spat.
“Pipe down!” Minhyung hissed, also elbowing him in the ribs. “You guys are practically yelling!”
After talking with the waiter, Sanghyeok looked over at them and smiled.
“You guys know each other?” he asked lightly. Wooje nodded.
“Totally,” he chirped. “We were buddies back in Challengers. Hyunjoon’s just being awkward.”
“Dude!” Hyunjoon squawked. Minseok giggled from across the table.
“How old are you all, by the way?” Sanghyeok asked.
“Eighteen,” Wooje replied.
“I’m nineteen,” said Hyunjoon.
“Oh really?” Minseok piped up. “Me too!”
“I’m twenty,” Minhyung finished.
Sanghyeok nodded, before a small grin spread across his face.
“All right, then. Guess how old I am.”
Hyunjoon paused, cocking his head.
“Twenty…three?” he guessed politely.
“Twenty eight!” Wooje exclaimed.
Hyunjoon nearly choked on his spit.
“Dude!” he hissed.
Sanghyeok laughed and shook his head, reaching for a glass of water.
“Close, but not quite,” he smiled. “I’m twenty-six. I’ll try my best to make sure you guys aren’t uncomfortable with the age gap, alright? You can drop the honorifics too.”
The four of them nodded and began helping themselves to the food set in front of them. Surprisingly, Hyunjoon really liked the place’s hotpot, maybe more than he’d admit. As the meat cooked and vegetables boiled, Hyunjoon whispered something into Wooje’s ear.
“Hey.”
“What?”
“Do you…do you think it’d be impolite to ask for a beer?”
“Why do you want one now ?” Wooje whispered annoyedly. “Just ‘cause you’re legal now doesn’t mean you need to get drunk all the time.”
“I’m not gonna get drunk , dumbass,” Hyunjoon hissed back. “I just heard that it’s polite to offer your elders a drink. And uh, it’s probably gonna make things less awkward.”
“Getting shitfaced drunk?” Wooje deadpanned. “Sure it’s gonna be less awkward. Except you’ll black out and not remember anything. I hope you still remember your birthday, dude. You were throwing up every five seconds, kept needing to piss—”
Beside them, Minseok suddenly burst into a fit of giggles, before clearing his throat and looking back down at his food. Minhyung sighed and gave them a judgemental stare.
“Would you two like something to drink?” Sanghyeok asked, cocking his head. Hyunjoon paused, looking up at him.
“Would a beer be okay?”
An hour later, all five of them had half-finished drinks except for Wooje, who’d complained that he was underage and therefore felt left out.
“You just wanna flex on me, don’t you?” Wooje had muttered.
Hyunjoon just grinned haughtily.
Taking a sip of his beer, Hyunjoon wrinkled his nose and suppressed a cough. Truth be told, this was only his second time drinking, and he was impatient to build up his tolerance. He glanced over at Minhyung and Sanghyeok, who seemed perfectly unphased. Minseok, however, was already red in the face, having ordered soju instead.
“Man,” Minseok slurred, pointing his chopsticks at Sanghyeok. “You aren’t a robot at all! Sure you speak kinda funny, but you’re way different than I thought.”
Minhyung at some point had scooted over to him, and was now making sure Minseok didn’t slump too far forwards and fall into the soup.
Sanghyeok laughed and shook his head. His posture was relaxed.
“I’m glad to hear that, Minseok-ah,” he sighed. “Truth be told, I was worried that I’d make you guys a bit scared. I’m happy that’s not the case.”
Hyunjoon nodded. Over the past hour, they’d chatted enough for him to come to the conclusion that Sanghyeok and Faker were two different people—one was the League monster, and the other was a goofy older guy who made really, really bad dad jokes after a pint of beer.
“Watch out, Minseokie,” Minhyung prodded, moving a bowl of rice away from his elbow.
“You two know each other?” Hyunjoon asked. For some reason, his lips were numb, and he found that he couldn’t move them as well as he’d liked.
“Well,” Minhyung hesitated. “Kind of. We talked a lot online before he came to T1.”
“You were flirting!” Minseok chirped, pouring himself another shot. “You were all like ‘I’ll be the best ADC in the word, so come join me ‘n—’”
“Ahem!” Minhyung interjected, pushing the shot away from Minseok’s lips. “He’s just drunk, guys. Please don’t mind what he says. I think you are too, Hyunjoon.”
“Me?” said Hyunjoon. “Why would’ja say that?”
Wooje gave him an unimpressed look, before pulling out his phone camera and shoving it in Hyunjoon’s face. Hyunjoon saw that his cheeks were bright pink, face flushed and eyes half-lidded.
“Whaaat?” he slurred, pushing Wooje’s hand away. “I totally am not .”
“You’ve got the tolerance of an eighty-pound grandma,” Wooje replied. “Stop drinking or else your new hyung’s gonna have to carry you out the building.”
Sanghyeok laughed and put a strip of meat on Wooje’s plate.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine, no?” Sanghyeok murmured. “After all, I’ve never heard of someone getting drunk after only a pint—”
“Then you’ve never heard of this guy, hyung!” Wooje cried. “He got drunk after three cans of Cass! Cass! And trust me, you really, really don’t wanna see him drunk! He gets all—-”
“Shaddup, Woojeng,” Hyunjoon slurred. His whole body felt warm— warm and tingly like he’d just stepped out of the cold. He could vaguely feel his face burning up.
Scooting closer, Hyunjoon leaned over and clapped a hand over Wooje’s mouth, pressing his whole body against Wooje’s in the cramped booth.
“You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?” he murmured, voice low and scratchy. “Yer’ annoying.”
Wooje stared at him, before pushing him off with a loud groan.
“See, Sanghyeok-hyung?” he said exasperatedly. “He says weird stuff!”
Hyunjoon wasn’t stupid—or at least, was smart enough to know that being drunk meant you could say things and get away with them. He was tipsy in that he swelled with confidence, but just the right amount of sober so that his heart rate still picked up the closer he got to Wooje.
Being drunk meant there were no motives, no meanings, no consequences to your actions. Wooje was right there.
Wrapping his arms around Wooje’s shoulders, Hyunjoon pressed the side of his face into the crook of Wooje’s neck. His skin was cool—like a wet towel to the forehead. Hyunjoon hummed contentedly, a low sound in his throat.
“You act like I’m annoying,” Hyunjoon whined. “Arent’cha forgetting who carries you in scrims?”
Wooje groaned again, trying to pry Hyunjoon off.
“That’s bullshit! I swear I have to save your ass every time you gank.”
It wasn’t until Hyunjoon had experienced skinship for the first time that he realized how touch-starved he was. His parents hadn’t hugged him, his sister didn’t touch him, and his friends back home just…weren’t the type. Hyunjoon had gone through life holding his arms to his chest, thinking that was all the warmth he’d ever feel. His own.
That had all changed, however, as soon as he’d met Wooje. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Hyunjoon wishes he’d just stayed oblivious— to spare him the pain of knowing what he could’ve had.
Wooje would rest his head on his shoulder. Wooje would lean against him in the elevator. Wooje would roll over, scooting closer on Hyunjoon’s bed, and watch YouTube videos while lying on his arm. Hyunjoon had no idea the touch of someone else could feel so nice.
Skinship was the grey area, the delicate middle ground of closeness you could have with someone, without having to think too much about it.
Hyunjoon had always wanted more than he would ever acknowledge.
Clinging to Wooje, Hyunjoon let out a sigh and hugged him tighter, burying his face in his neck. He breathed in. Wooje had a soft, milky smell—like a mix between laundry detergent and his own boyish scent. Hyunjoon liked it so much that he’d even asked Wooje what shampoo he used—and bought it immediately. It wasn’t the same, however.
“Dude,” Wooje whined, putting a hand on the back of his head. “How drunk are you, really? I know you’re a lightweight, but it can’t be this bad.”
Somewhere near them, Sanghyeok laughed.
“I see what you mean,” he chuckled. “Perhaps it’s time we end the night, then. Out of consideration for our two nineteen year-olds.”
Wooje began wriggling out of Hyunjoon’s arms, when Hyunjoon suddenly pressed his face into his neck even harder, shifting his body so that he was practically crushing Wooje beneath him.
“Don’t move…” Hyunjoon murmured. “You smell nice.”
Wooje was quiet for a few moments. Then, Hyunjoon felt a soft, cold hand pat his neck.
“Joonie,” Wooje mumbled into his ear. “You’re drunk, okay? Let’s go home. We’re going back to the same place anyways, remember?”
Reluctantly, Hyunjoon released Wooje and watched him slide out of the booth. Wooje reached out and offered him a hand.
“C’mere,” he grinned. “I’ll help you stand up.”
With all the strength he had in his hot, sluggish body, Hyunjoon reached out and took it.
2022 made Hyunjoon feel invincible. 2022 made Hyunjoon feel like a god —crushing all the other teams, dominating the spring split, winning an LCK title—until it didn’t.
Looking back, Hyunjoon probably thought that defeat was the worst kind of pain there was.
They were winning, until they weren’t. Hyunjoon didn’t understand why. Mid diff, Sanghyeok said. Botlane diff, Minhyung said. Top diff, Wooje said.
But no matter how many times they blamed themselves, Hyunjoon would still look into the mirror and flinch. He’d think of all his fucked up ganks, all the flashes he missed, all the minuscule things he should’ve done, shouldn’t have done. And he wanted to scream.
Losing hurt more when you could’ve done better. There was no excuse, no way to say “jungle diff” and get back up again. There was a kind of frustration there, like being trapped in a thick, rubber box with only a plastic knife to get you out.
They’d picked themselves off the floor after MSI, clawed their way back to the top during Summer Split, and then promptly got kicked back down again in the finals.
After they'd lost, there’d been a nagging thought in Hyunjoon’s head that wouldn’t leave him alone. That if they didn’t win worlds this year, as a “super roster”, they’d all be shipped away—kicked out for some newer, shinier rookies.
It fucking terrified him.
The night after their defeat in the Summer finals, the five of them rode the car back home in silence. Hyunjoon never knew what to say to fill it. He usually found it much easier to just sit there and squirm until his brain forced out an appropriate sentence. And force one out, it did.
“Those GenG guys sure looked happy, huh?” Hyunjoon finally whispered.
Minhyung turned to look at him. Next to him, Minseok sat with his face buried in Minhyung’s jacket. Wooje was next to Hyunjoon, staring silently out the window.
“I mean, you can punch me if I’m being annoying,” Hyunjoon continued. “But I saw them crying as we were walking out. Makes you wonder about the whole winners and losers thing, huh?”
Sanghyeok piped up from the seat in front of them.
“That roster really was on their last leg,” he murmured. “They hadn’t won LCK in such a long time…I would’ve been surprised if they weren’t crying.”
“I get it,” Minhyung sighed. “But it’s a lot more heartache if you empathize with the teams we’re trying to beat. There has to be a loser every time someone wins, y’know.”
Hyunjoon stared at the back of Wooje’s head. His brow furrowed.
“Hey, Woojeng?” he asked softly. “You okay?”
Wooje turned around to look at him. His expression was unreadable. He nodded slowly.
“Whatcha’ thinking about?”
“How to win next time.”
Hyunjoon paused, staring into his eyes. They were as bright as ever—clear and calm in a way that contrasted with Hyunjoon’s own. He let out a small, shaky laugh.
“Man,” Hyunjoon smiled weakly. “You’re crazy, Woojeng. Crazy. We just lost, and you aren’t even taking the time to mope?”
“Nah,” Wooje shook his head and shrugged. “It’s not the end of the world, y’know. There’s always next time.”
The words “next time” echoed in Hyunjoon’s head.
“Y’know what,” Hyunjoon grinned. “I think you’re onto something. Let’s think about next time.”
Wooje smiled and nodded.
“Next time” did in fact come, but it was arguably a million times more painful than jumping into the fucking sun. With papercuts. On your balls.
Hyunjoon watched as the Nexus collapsed, watched as the confetti rained down on DRX while they jumped up from their chairs, running to each other with wide eyes and even wider smiles.
Hyunjoon watched as the crowd went wild, cheers blending into a deafening roar, as the cameras whizzed around on their little wheels.
He watched as Minseok slumped over on his desk, face buried in his hands. As Sanghyeok stood up and began patting him on the back.
Hyunjoon didn’t know what to do.
Slowly, as if emerging from a dream, he pulled off his headphones. The music, the cheering, and then sobs nearby were enough to make him want to put them back on again. But he didn’t.
He stood up. Then, slowly, he glanced over at Wooje.
Wooje was staring blankly at the screen. He hadn’t taken his headphones off—hadn’t even moved his hand off the mouse. For some reason, Hyunjoon wanted to reach out and grab his face, twist it towards him, and stare into Wooje’s eyes; just to check that the light there hadn’t disappeared, hadn’t faded away like the fragments of their Nexus.
Hyunjoon walked over to Wooje’s chair. And then, with some difficulty, leaned down and wrapped him in a hug.
Wooje’s body was soft—warm like the heat packs Hyunjoon had been playing with before the game. He hugged Wooje until what felt like was the right time to let go.
“Hey,” Hyunjoon murmured, lips close enough to Wooje’s ear that he could hear him over the crowd. “Are you…okay?”
Wooje finally looked up at him, and relief washed over Hyunjoon. His eyes were just fine, maybe a little more watery than usual, but still Wooje.
He nodded silently and began pulling off his headphones.
“Hey…” Wooje whispered. His voice was hoarse—weak in a way that made Hyunjoon’s chest hurt.
“Do you think we’ll get to Worlds like this next year?”
Before Hyunjoon could even form a thought, he was already pulling Wooje out of his seat and into his arms.
“There’s always next time,” Hyunjoon murmured into his ear. “Always next time.”
It’d taken them the entirety of their break to regroup and recollect themselves. Hyunjoon would be lying if he said that the majority of that break wasn’t spent hugging his pillow, FaceTiming Wooje and stuffing his face with snacks. He’d gone back to his hometown for a few months, up the hills and down the dirt paths, all the way to his parents’ tucked-away house in Hwasun.
More importantly, however, Hyunjoon had forgotten how different his friends back home were.
He’d gone out with them a few times for basketball and food, walking the rusty streets he’d known his whole childhood while chewing sunflower seeds and spitting them out onto the pavement. He’d forgotten the rough, twangy way they talked, the way their calloused hands felt slapping him on the back.
Hyunjoon fell back into rhythm pretty quickly. He shoved his friends around, cracked vulgar jokes about girls and boobs, and drank like a fish. Drank and drank and drank.
Sometimes, Hyunjoon would think back to Wooje, and wonder if he’d ever introduce him to these guys. He came up with a definite, wholehearted, “fuck no.”
Wooje was soft—had well-trimmed nails and perfect hands, had wide eyes and a sweet, milky scent.
Now, back home, all Hyunjoon could smell was the sourness of sweat.
Sitting on a park bench, Hyunjoon lounged with his friends after playing basketball for the evening. The sky was pitch-black, the only source of light being a dull, flickering street lamp.
“Ay, Oh-jun,” one of his friends said, digging in a plastic big for sunflower seeds. “So what’s pussy like in the big city?”
He offered the bag to Hyunjoon. Hyunjoon took a handful and popped some in his mouth.
“Not bad,” Hyunjoon lied. “It’s no different than here.”
“We thought y’wouldn’t have time for it, hon’stly,” another one of his friends piped up, spitting out some shells. “You’re real famous ‘round here. Fer bein’ the only one of us bastards to get out of this damned place, I s’pose. Hell, even your mom’s a celebrity!”
The group burst out laughing, and Hyunjoon laughed along with them.
“It’s nothing, really,” Hyunjoon replied, leaning back. “Once you’re in Seoul, life sure changes.”
“I bet,” said one of his friends. “Yer accent’s almost gone. Y’speak like a city boy now, Oh-jun. I never guessed that playin’ League gets you the high life like that.”
“Ay, I still have it, y’know!” Hyunjoon protested. “‘S just…you cain’t go around speakin’ like this in Seoul without soundin’ like a country rat.”
His friends laughed again, and one of them offered him a pack of cigarettes.
“Cain’t,” Hyunjoon said, shaking his head. “Company policy.”
“Besides, fool,” one of his other friends piped up. “When’s th’last time Oh-jun smoked? He don't—so get that thing away from ‘im.”
Sighing, Hyunjoon wrinkled his nose as his friends lit up their cigarettes, blowing hot smoke into the even hotter, muggier air. He could feel the sweat drying on his neck, sticky and uncomfortable. It was always hot in his hometown, no matter the season. He preferred Seoul in that aspect.
“So,” one of his friends murmured. “Y’got any friends over there?”
“Mhm,” Hyunjoon replied casually.
“What’re they like?”
Hyunjoon paused, before spitting out a few sunflower-seed shells.
“Not bad. Lot softer than ‘round these parts.”
“I bet,” one of his friends snorted. “They’re a strange lot over there. Got men dressing up like girls and boys ruttin’ on boys. Sodoms, all of ‘em. Ain’t real men at all.”
For some reason, Hyunjoon felt a weird twist in his gut. He bit his tongue.
“Cain’t say that for sure,” Hyunjoon replied evenly. “Some of th’m are decent.”
“Sure, brother,” one of them crowed. “Bet after a good year or two, you’ll be one of ‘em. We should send dresses and lipstick wh’n that happens.”
The whole group burst into laughter, and Hyunjoon laughed along half-heartedly, before suddenly jumping off the park bench and grabbing his friend by the collar.
“You want me to fuck you up?” he growled, shaking him violently. His friend stared up at him, before breaking into laughter again.
“Naw, naw, Oh-jun,” he grinned. “We were just messin’ with you. Everyone knows yer’ the toughest o’the group.”
Later that night, Hyunjoon scrubbed his skin under scalding-hot water, scrubbing and scrubbing until he couldn’t smell anything except the sweet, milky shampoo Wooje used.
One evening, a week after Hyunjoon had re-signed with T1, he got a call from Wooje. They’d promised each other right after Worlds to re-sign—-promised as easy as breathing air.
Hyunjoon had been more than relieved when coach Kkoma walked up to them after their defeat, and promptly told them that they’d be receiving an offer for next year—regardless of their loss.
However, staring down at his phone, Hyunjoon’s heart picked up. He’d heard about other agents, other offers, but never in his right mind considered them.
“Would Wooje…?”
Hyunjoon stopped himself right there. Wooje wouldn’t. Right?
He picked up the phone.
“Hey!” Wooje’s voice chirped over the phone. “Just calling to say I finished signing the contract. My agent told me to do one year, in case I can ask for more next year.”
Hyunjoon hoped his sigh wasn’t audible over the phone.
“That’s great,” he murmured. “Now all we need to do is get our asses back in Seoul and grind duoqueue.”
“Mhm,” Wooje hummed. Hyunjoon could hear the rustle of clothes in the background. “By the way, your voice sounds weird. Did you get sick or something?”
“No way,” Hyunjoon replied. “I’d be impressed if I got sick in this heat. Maybe the connection’s being weird? It’s shit in the countryside, anyways.”
“Nuh-uh,” Wooje insisted. “It’s like your voice got twangier. Like a frog.”
“A what? ” Hyunjoon squawked. “That’s just straight up mean, dude.”
“Maybe it’s my imagination, then,” Wooje replied. Hyunjoon could practically hear his grin over the phone.
“Well, buh-bye!” Wooje continued. “I gotta go. I’m packing.”
“You’re packing already? ” Hyunjoon asked incredulously.
“Unlike you, I actually care if my clothes get wrinkled to shit,” Wooje replied. “You should probably start packing, too. There’s only a week left.”
“It takes me like, twenty minutes to pack though…” Hyunjoon balked. “How the hell do you stretch it out for a week?”
“It’s called folding clothes,” Wooje replied sarcastically. “See you soon, Joonie.”
“See you,” Hyunjoon murmured, smiling.
If Hyunjoon could pick a year to go back and re-live, he’d scream “2023” at the top of his tired, scratchy lungs. Nothing was perfect in life, but that year was the closest he’d ever felt to it.
Sure, he’d learnt how to lose that year, to some extent. They placed well, then hadn’t—had made it to the finals, then lost. Victory was always so close, at the click of a mouse or tip of an Ashe arrow. Hyunjoon sometimes found himself staring at a grey screen, staring like he did at hundreds and hundreds of others before it.
No matter how much losing stung, however, Hyunjoon could always take the elevator up to Wooje’s room, and all would be well in the world again.
Hyunjoon found it funny, sometimes, how relationships grew over time. They were like house plants—small and unremarkable, until you woke up one day to find they’d shot up to your living room ceiling.
That was exactly how Hyunjoon felt on a sudden Tuesday morning—lying on Wooje’s bed, covered with Wooje’s blanket surrounded by Wooje’s stuffed animals while Wooje laid on his arm. He could smell that milky-sweet scent stronger than ever—noticed it even as he tried convincing himself he’d gotten used to it already.
Wooje was watching something on his phone, giggling occasionally. And while Hyunjoon tried to focus on it too, every time something funny happened, he’d find himself staring at Wooje’s smile instead.
You never appreciate what you have until it’s gone. But Hyunjoon thought whoever said that was lying through their teeth. Because at that moment, for a brief period in life, Hyunjoon really did know how good things were, appreciated everything like a dying man appreciated painkillers.
It was stronger than the calm before a storm—more like a taste of a rapidly-dissolving paradise, a glimpse of something that Hyunjoon knew he’d never have again. Hyunjoon sometimes wondered if the best, most perfect times in life were perfect just because they wouldn’t last—perfect in the fleeting fragility of them, in the aching way he knew none of this would ever, ever be his again.
Most people, once finding themselves in a situation like his, would immediately cut themselves off, sparing everyone involved a tremendous amount of pain.
But Hyunjoon wasn’t a good enough person to do that.
So instead climbing off the bed and sprinting out the door, instead of apologizing, instead of pushing Wooje away—Hyunjoon pulled him closer.
“Dude,” Wooje squirmed after a few minutes, kicking off his side of the blanket. “You’re way too warm.”
“Then scoot over,” Hyunjoon shot back. “You’re squeezing me off the edge, for Christ’s sake.”
Wooje rolled a few inches to the right, before grunting and settling back down on Hyunjoon’s arm. Suddenly, Hyunjoon felt him scoot an inch closer. Then another, and another, until the top of Wooje’s head was pressed against the bottom of his chin, and Hyunjoon could hardly see anything over his hair.
“Move your head,” Hyunjoon groaned, putting a hand on Wooje’s shoulder. “I can’t see the screen.”
“It’s not like you’re watching it, anyways,” Wooje replied nonchalantly.
While Hyunjoon knew what he meant, it still made him jump a little.
“Hey Joonie?”
“Mm?”
“Have you ever loved anyone before?”
Hyunjoon somehow choked on air and spit at the same time.
“Wha…?” he finally forced out, after a long, long pause. “What’s with the weird questions? Don’t get sappy like that all of a sudden.”
Wooje glanced up at him, before shrugging and looking back down at his phone.
“Yeah, guess that was kind of weird.”
Hyunjoon felt his heart slow as Wooje returned to watching YouTube—only for it to speed right back up again as Wooje spoke.
“I mean, have you ever had a girlfriend that you liked for real?”
Pausing, Hyunjoon frowned. He’d dated a few girls over the years, and while he’d liked them all well enough, he didn’t know what “for real” meant. He liked girls—liked them in that they were a completely different species, that they were alien, unknown. Hyunjoon never understood them enough to feel relaxed when hanging out, but it was that slight discomfort that made things interesting.
Spending time with girls was a lot like putting on a show. He’d do his hair, dress up all nice, and act a lot cooler than he really felt. In return, the girl would compliment him, pepper some kisses on his cheek, and maybe let him take her to his bed.
It was pleasant, but nothing passionate.
“You’ve gotta be more specific than that, dude,” Hyunjoon replied. “Of course I had girlfriends I liked. Why else would I date them?”
“I dunno,” Wooje shrugged. “Just thinking, I guess. What do you like about them?”
“Well, they’re all pretty, and sweet, and really nice to be with…” Hyunjoon replied. Suddenly, he broke into a wide grin, before twisting around to look Wooje in the eyes.
“Wait, don’t tell me…?”
Wooje stared at him blankly.
“What? Why’re you smiling like that?”
“Don’t tell me you’re finally looking for one too?”
Hyunjoon laughed and scooted downwards, so the two were now lying facing each other.
“I was wondering why you’d ask about girls all of a sudden…” Hyunjoon murmured coyly. “You’ve come to the right person, dude. I’m like, the Faker of getting laid.”
Wooje’s eyes went wide for a split second, before he groaned and shoved his hands in Hyunjoon’s face.
“Dude!” he whined. “Gross! That’s an insult to Sanghyeok-hyung.”
“Is not,” Hyunjoon replied. “It’s the only thing I could come up with, okay? All you need to know is that if there’s any girls you wanna get with, I can give you the best advice ever.”
“You’re just bragging,” said Wooje, rolling his eyes. “Besides, you’re the last person I’d ever take dating advice from. Remember who had to wipe the snot off your face every time a girl dumped you?”
“T-that’s!” Hyunjoon spluttered. “That’s different! I said dating advice, not ‘breaking up’ advice.”
“You were way too hung up on them.”
“I was just sad, okay? That’s like, totally normal.”
Hyunjoon scooted closer to Wooje, lying on his side and propping his head up with one hand.
“So?” he murmured. “Got anyone in mind?”
Wooje stared at him for a quiet, unreadable second.
“I guess.”
When the universe created Moon Hyunjoon, it threw a few main ingredients into the bowl: unwavering determination, a heart made of gold, and perhaps a few tablespoons of stupidity. However, Hyunjoon suspects that when it reached for the last ingredient, confidence, the universe sprinkled a pinch in, tripped, fell, and spilled a metric-ton of self-insecurity into the mix.
It was because of this Powerpuff-girls-esque accident, Hyunjoon believed, that he developed a really, really bad habit.
Every time Hyunjoon felt his heart sink with realization, he’d muster up a comical amount of confidence, slap a grin on his face, and commit to the bit. The bit being that, he was the best person in the entire world. Nothing bothered him, not at all.
Whatever the truth was, whatever made him flinch, he’d charge headfirst in its direction and pretend that he was confidently okay, accepting of it all.
It was a lie, of course. It was also a lie, additionally, when Hyunjoon told himself that he was totally, utterly, perfectly okay with Wooje liking someone.
It wasn’t.
“Damn,” Hyunjoon murmured, grinning. “It’s about time, dude. You’ve been single for what, three years? Four years?”
“Don’t say it like that,” Wooje groaned.
“Whatever the case, you’ve come to the right person,” Hyunjoon said proudly. “I’ll make sure you two are together before the season even ends. Just follow my advice, and you’ll be golden.”
Wooje hesitated, as if he wanted to say something, but eventually nodded.
“First, girls never mean what they say.”
Hyunjoon put on a high, dramatic falsetto.
“‘Oh Wooje babe, it’s fine. I’m not mad.’--- is pure bullshit. Same goes for ‘I’m not hungry’ or ‘it doesn’t matter’.”
“Two,” Hyunjoon held up two fingers. “Girls never, never want solutions to their problems. If your girlfriend starts bitching about her day, she just wants you to shut up and listen. Even if she says ‘I have a headache’ and all she’s eaten is two Cheerios and a Celcius, she’ll get annoyed if you say to go eat something.”
Hyunjoon scooted closer to Wooje.
“Which brings me to my third point,” he held up three fingers. “Girls don’t eat unless you do. Say your girlfriend’s hungry and wants Mom’s Touch. You aren’t, but you still pull up to the store. She asks you if you want anything. What do you say?”
“That I’m not hungry?”
“Dead wrong!” Hyunjoon cried, making a buzzer noise. “If you don’t eat, she doesn’t eat. It’s ‘cause if she’s eating while you aren’t, it makes her feel fat. So unless you wanna send your girl to the ER, you gotta, gotta eat when she does.”
Wooje looked at him quietly, as if digesting the barrage of information just dumped on him. Then, he wrinkled his nose and frowned.
“Girls seem kind of high-maintenance.”
Hyunjoon paused, before furrowing his brow.
“I mean, sure they are. But that’s how you’re supposed to get along. They’re totally different from guys.”
“What about skinship, then?”
“Hm?”
“I mean, can you touch girls like with guys?”
“Hell no!” Hyunjoon exclaimed, shaking his head vigorously. “Skinship doesn’t exist between opposite genders. If you go up to your girlfriend and start sitting on her lap and shit, she’ll either think you wanna fuck, or call the police on you if you’re not at that stage yet.”
Wooje wrinkled his nose even harder, which was surprisingly possible. Hyunjoon told himself it wasn’t cute.
“Besides,” Hyunjoon continued. “It’s just not the same with girls. You can’t get too comfortable too quickly. Even if you just put your arm around her, things can get really awkward. You gotta go on like, five dates before that.”
“So if they’re high maintenance and you can’t touch them, why would you want a girlfriend?”
Hyunjoon paused. Then, he laughed— smiling a smile that hurt his face for some reason even though it wasn’t a wide one.
“Well, because we’re dudes, dumbass! You can’t get married without having a girlfriend first.”
Wooje paused.
“I guess…” he murmured. “But not gonna lie…having a girlfriend kinda sounds like pushing mid with no minions. Whole lotta work for a whole lotta nothing.”
Hyunjoon grinned and scooted closer, before suddenly pulling the covers over their heads.
“W-wha–!” Wooje yelped in the dark. “What’d you do that for? It’s so hot in here!”
“Shhh,” Hyunjoon giggled, pressing a finger to his lips. “It’s ‘cause I’m gonna let you in on some top-secret information.”
“What are we, twelve?”
“Hush up and listen to me, dude.”
Hyunjoon’s voice dropped to a low murmur.
“You wanna know why having a girlfriend is the best?” he grinned. “It’s ‘cause once you get all the steps right, you can get laid.”
“So like…have sex?”
“Don’t say it like that,” Hyunjoon whispered annoyedly. “What are you, a doctor? Anyways, remember what Changdong used to say? That you aren’t a real man until you get laid? Well you have no idea, but he’s totally right…”
Hyunjoon broke into a fit of giggles, covering his mouth with his hand. Wooje shook his head and sighed. It was starting to get hot under the covers.
“Dude,” Wooje groaned. “You watch too much porn. It’s probably fucked with your brain or something.”
“Nuh-uh,” Hyunjoon replied smugly. “I dunno if you know this, Mr. Virgin, but once you have a girlfriend, you don’t need to watch porn anymore. That’s ‘cause…”
Wooje let out an even louder groan and shoved Hyunjoon away, sitting up and pulling off the covers, breathing fresh air again.
“Gross!” Wooje whined. “You said you’d give me dating advice!”
Hyunjoon cackled gleefully and flopped down onto the bed.
“Tell me when you get to third base with her, okay?” he grinned. “‘Cause when you do, I have even more—”
Hyunjoon was then cut off by Wooje smothering him with a pillow. Pushing him off, Hyunjoon laughed maniacally before reaching for another pillow to hit him with. The two tussled, biffing each other with stuffed animals and anything they could grab, until like always, Hyunjoon ended up on top of Wooje with an exhilarated smile on his face.
“Surrender!” he laughed, reaching for something to hit Wooje with.
“That’s unfair!” Wooje replied, breathless and grinning. “You actually have muscle now! I could sue you for assault!”
“You started it,” Hyunjoon replied, grabbing something soft. “It doesn’t count in court—”
“Wait, don’t grab that one!”
Hyunjoon looked over at the plushie he was holding. It was a yellow duck with three strands of hair on its head—a Psyduck. Hyunjoon paused.
“Is this…is this the plushie I gave you?”
Wooje nodded, looking away.
“Yeah. You really thought I’d just throw it away?”
“Well, no…but it’s been what—three years since then? Four?”
“It’s a gift, genius. You’re supposed to keep them for a long time.”
For some reason, Hyunjoon felt his chest swell—swelling in an aching, throbbing way that terrified him. Fear and pure joy were hard emotions to distinguish, sometimes. Both of them made his heart race.
Grabbing the Psyduck, Hyunjoon placed it on Wooje’s chest and straightened up, straddling Wooje’s stomach while his knees dug into the mattress. He stared down at the two for a brief moment, crossing his arms and furrowing his brow. Then,
“You two really look alike.”
“What? ”
Like most things, however, it was never all smiles and sunshine between them. Even through the rose tint of Hyunjoon’s memory, there were always moments where they fought, perhaps for stupider reasons than he’d ever admit.
Wooje was stubborn, Wooje was annoying, and Wooje, at times, was an absolute little shit.
Hyunjoon tries to convince himself he doesn’t like that about him.
(He fails.)
It was the evening after a match, and Hyunjoon was starving. They’d won—domnitated, actually, and he’d been scrolling on his phone, waiting for everyone else to trickle in from the Lol park arena. He felt a hand on his head and looked up. Minseok was staring down at him.
“Whatcha doin?”
“Scrolling YouTube.”
“Cool.”
Minseok watched the video with him over his shoulder, before plopping down in the seat next to him. His bag jangled loudly—Hyunjoon always teased him that it consisted of more keychain than fabric. Hyunjoon then felt Minseok staring at the side of his face, the kind of staring that screamed unfortunately, Ryu Minseok wanted something—and it didn’t matter how long Hyunjoon ignored him, he’d keep staring until he gave up. Hyunjoon sighed and looked up from his screen.
“Whaddya want?” he murmured.
“Hyung,” Minseok whined, scooting closer to him. “I’m hungry.”
“We all are, dude. It’s almost midnight.”
“But I’m like, really hungry.”
“Then order some food.”
“I don’t have money.”
Hyunjoon groaned as the pieces started coming together.
“Whaddya mean you don’t have money?” he sighed. “You get a salary, don’t you?”
“I don’t have my card and I forgot my phone at home,” Minseok replied sullenly.
Hyunjoon was about to say something along the lines of “who the fuck forgets their phone” when Minseok suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder and began shaking him around.
“Hyung,” he whined. “ Please buy something for us. The whole team’s hungry, y’know. It’s your turn to pay for the food, anyways.”
“Ask your boyfriend to pay for us,” Hyunjoon snorted, looking back down at his phone—which earned him a long, hard glare from Minseok.
“I’m being serious,” Minseok pressed. “I swear you never pay for the food. It’s either Sanghyeok-hyung or me.”
“Not true,” Hyunjoon replied. “I paid last time, remember?”
Minseok opened his mouth to reply, when he suddenly spotted Wooje walking in.
“Wooje!” he called out, waving him over. “C’mere. We’re hungry, so can you pay for the food today?”
“I paid last time,” Wooje replied. “Hyunjoon should. He never does.”
“Untrue!” Hyunjoon objected, furrowing his brow. “I literally paid last time. And respectfully, no the hell you didn’t. That’s what you always say, too. You always get out of paying.”
“Well you didn’t pay last time either,” Wooje shot back. “Plus, who makes the youngest pay? That’s like—bad manners.”
“Where were those manners when you stole all my Gromp camps in game two, huh?”
“That’s ‘cuz I needed them.”
“You’re just bad at CS’ing, admit it.”
“That’s mean.”
“You’re mean.”
Wooje stopped and stared at him, and Hyunjoon felt the mood shift a little bit further from an elementary-school playground argument, and a little more towards an adult conversation.
“Seriously though,” Wooje continued. “You have no right to say I’m bad at CS’ing. You’re not even a laner. Like, you fight bots for a living.”
“That’s not even the point,” Hyunjoon fired back. “What does this have to do with getting food?”
“You guys, stop,” Minseok groaned. “Let’s just do rock-paper-scissors, ‘kay? I’m gonna die if I don’t eat something.”
Hyunjoon reluctantly agreed, and the three duked it out until Wooje miraculously ended up the loser. Letting out a whoop of joy, Hyunjoon grinned as Wooje groaned and complained. Minseok whipped out his phone and swiped open the delivery app.
“Huh?” Hyunjoon yelped, turning to look at him. “You had your phone this whole time?”
Minseok smiled wordlessly and began scrolling through delivery options.
“You want chicken, guys?” he chirps.
“Wait,” asked Wooje. “What do you mean ‘the whole time’?”
“Minseok said he couldn’t pay earlier ‘cuz he forgot his phone,” Hyunjoon sighed. “Pathological liars, all of you.”
“You’re a liar, too,” Wooje fired back. “You always lie about paying. Seriously, you did not pay last time.”
“Maybe I didn’t, but you didn’t either,” Hyunjoon replied smugly. “I don’t think you’ve ever paid for anything ever.”
“You never acknowledge the other things I do for you, anyways. Why should I pay when you don’t care?”
“Don’t care?” Hyunjoon squawked. “I mean, we’re happy that you’re paying now, aren’t we? Besides, the hell you mean ‘other things’?”
“Carrying you in-game, letting you take my minions, saving your ass every time you try and gank—”
“That’s just called being a teammate,” Hyunjoon argued. “Isn’t that like, a given?”
“Isn’t being thankful also a given?”
“Thank you , Wooje,” Hyunjoon replied in a childish, sarcastic voice.
“Then show you’re thankful by paying for the food.”
“What?” Hyunjoon exclaimed. “Dude, that’s some manipulator type shit. You’re not getting out of this, I swear—”
“What’s wrong?”
Hyunjoon looked up to see Sanghyeok walk through the door.
“Oh, uh, nothing—” Hyunjoon began.
“We can’t decide on who pays for the food tonight!” Wooje chirped.
“Hm?” said Sanghyeok. “I can pay, you know.”
“N-no, that’s fine—” Hyunjoon began yet again, putting his hands out.
“Sure!” Wooje replied. “That sounds good!”
“Wooje!” Hyunjoon hissed. “What the hell happened to manners ? He’s paid like seven times in a row already!”
“Sanghyeok-hyung’s got the money though, right?” Wooje replied innocently.
“You just wanna get out of paying, brat!”
“Nuh-uh.”
“The hell you mean ‘nuh-uh’ ? How is that even a valid argument?!”
Hyunjoon was about to die from frustration when Minhyung finally walked into the door.
“Woah,” he grinned, sitting down on the couch. “Who shot Hyunjoon?”
“Wooje’s pissing him off,” Minseok replied. “He doesn’t wanna pay.”
“I can pay, y’know—” Sanghyeok began.
“No way!” Hyunjoon interjected, sitting back up. “You guys spoil Wooje way too much! Sanghyeok can’t pay again—-”
“I’ll pay,” Minhyung sighed, pulling out his phone.
The whole room went dead silent. There was a long, shocked pause. Then,
“Holy shit!” Hyunjoon cried, sitting bolt-upright. “Did you get hit on the head or something? You’re actually paying? ”
“Don’t jinx it!” Minseok hissed, immediately running over to Minhyung and squeezing beside him. “Let’s make sure he does it before he takes it back.”
“Score!” Wooje whispered under his breath, grinning.
“Get over here, brat,” Hyunjoon growled, grabbing Wooje and ruffling his hair. “I swear on my life you won’t get out of it next time.”
Hyunjoon soon forgot his annoyance, however, as soon as the chicken arrived Wooje started stuffing his cheeks with food.
It’s not cute, Hyunjoon thought to himself.
(It is, but he repeats his earlier statements like a mantra. Stubborn, annoying, an absolute little shit. Stubborn, annoying, an absolute little—)
(It doesn’t work.)
Winning Worlds after a whole year of runner-ups was sweeter than anything Hyunjoon could ever cram into his mouth.
It was pure euphoria, pure excitement, so brain-numbingly amazing that starting from the moment the Nexus crumbled to hoisting the Summoner’s Cup, reality didn’t feel real anymore.
The confetti, the cheers, the music and flashy visuals—all of it was theirs. It was overwhelming, in such a strange, happy way that Hyunjoon felt himself laughing as tears welled up in his eyes, his chest aching and aching but in such a good way.
As soon as the Nexus had fallen, he’d immediately jumped up from his chair and turned to look at the person next to him.
For the past two years, Wooje had always been by his side—figuratively and literally. Approximately five inches away. Now, all that ran through Hyunjoon’s mind was getting up and out of his chair, crossing those five inches, and wrapping Wooje in his arms.
So he did.
He hugged and hugged Wooje, and Wooje hugged him back— and they jumped up and down, yelling and cheering even though they could barely hear themselves over the crowd. Hyunjoon didn’t even care if Wooje headbutted him once or thrice. Once they’d finally unraveled themselves, Hyunjoon turned to look at Wooje’s face.
Maybe it was the lighting, or maybe it was the golden-white sparklers nearby, but there was something different about the way he looked this time. Wooje was perfect — face flushed, smiling, all the brightest, prettiest stars shining in those eyes. Wooje’s eyes, Wooje’s eyes. Hyunjoon couldn’t look away.
It was terrifying.
Hyunjoon only snapped out of it once Wooje had turned around and began walking towards the other team. Fistbumps happened, the trophy ceremony happened, and slowly but surely, the night went on until they all ended up in a restaurant near the arena.
There was still a thrum of adrenaline running through him, of course, but Hyunjoon was now smiling in a more exhausted, wiped-out kind of way. Under the dim restaurant lighting, the team shared drinks and cut into chunks of steak.
“Cheers!” coach Kkoma shouted for the umpteenth time of the night. Everyone cheered in response, clinking glasses and chatting happily.
Hyunjoon turned to look next to him. Wooje had ordered soju, having turned nineteen earlier that year, and was now looking down at the bottle apprehensively.
“Woojeng,” he grinned, elbowing him in the ribs. “Aren’t you gonna drink?”
“Smells terrible,” Wooje replied sullenly.
“That’s how alcohol’s supposed to smell,” Hyunjoon snorted. He reached out for two glasses and poured them shots.
“Well, then,” he smiled broadly. “Let your hyung teach you how to drink the proper way.”
“If you get drunk again,” Wooje groaned, “I swear I’m gonna kick your ass.”
“Don’t worry,” Hyunjoon replied cheerily. “Soju doesn’t work on me. In your case, however…”
He smirked mischievously, and Wooje rolled his eyes at him.
“Don’t be too sure,” Wooje replied. “Also, take it easy. It’s my first time drinking.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hyunjoon nodded. “‘Cuz you were too chicken to do it on your birthday…”
Wooje opened his mouth to reply, but Hyunjoon was already reaching over to set one of the shots in front of him.
“Alright,” Hyunjoon began. “ Tip number one: the first shot’s always the worst shot. You just gotta down it—don’t taste it, just throw it back.”
“Throw it back?” Wooje cocked his head. “Like, twerking? ”
“No, dumbass,” Hyunjoon grinned, bringing the shot glass to his lips. “Like this.”
Hyunjoon tossed his head back and poured the shot into his mouth, swallowing it in one swift, confident go. Then, he slammed the glass onto the table.
“Ahh!” Hyunjoon hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. “Guess we ordered the traditional stuff. Damn.”
“That looks…painful,” Wooje murmured.
“It really isn’t,” Hyunjoon replied. “You just gotta get used to it. Now, you try—and remember, don’t taste it!”
Slowly, Wooje reached for the shot and brought it to his lips. Then, suddenly, he closed his eyes and threw his head back.
Approximately 40% of the soju made it into his mouth. The rest, however, due to Wooje’s lips being halfway-pursed, ended up dripping down the front of his shirt.
“Ack!” Wooje spluttered, wrinkling his nose and wiping his mouth. He coughed a few times, eyes watering. Hyunjoon burst out laughing and hit the table, before grabbing Wooje’s shoulder and shaking him around.
“What did I tell you, hmm?” Hyunjoon cackled. “Don’t taste it! Also, you’re supposed to open your mouth when you drink shit, y’know…”
“You teaching Wooje how to drink?” asked Minhyung from nearby. Even though they were scarcely an hour into the meal, Minseok was already flushed pink and leaning on his shoulder.
“Yep,” Hyunjoon grinned. “And he sucks ass at it.”
“No I don’t…!” Wooje coughed, wiping his eyes. “You’re just…bad at explaining…”
“Am not!” Hyunjoon exclaimed. “Here, lemme show you again.”
And so, Hyunjoon threw back another shot—this time with more gusto. He felt the soju burn his throat, face warming up ever so slightly.
“Alright then,” Hyunjoon grinned. “Now you do it.”
Wooje’s second shot was much better than the first. This time, all the soju actually made it into his mouth, and he even slammed the glass down onto the table.
“Bleck!” Wooje sputtered, face scrunched up. “It tastes like alcohol wipes.”
“They’re called alcohol wipes for a reason, dumbass,” Hyunjoon replied, pouring another shot.
“Wait,” Wooje’s eyes went wide. “You mean we’re drinking the shit they put in alcohol wipes ?!”
Hyunjoon grinned and downed another shot.
Embarrassingly enough, Hyunjoon had secretly hoped Wooje would get drunk enough to become clingy and fall all over him. However, as Hyunjoon would soon find out, not all people were as irresponsible and impulsive as him.
Two hours in, and Hyunjoon could feel his whole face burn. His mind was fuzzy— fuzzy and warm and tingly, and god was he happy. After many nights of drinking until he blacked out, Hyunjoon had gauged the exact limit of what he could drink before losing all semblance of sobriety. And right now, he was just on that ledge—the bare minimum amount of soberness to still be aware of the world around him.
Wooje hadn’t fared much better. Unlike Hyunjoon, he’d pounded back a few shots, complained about the taste, and then went quiet for a long time. It was only until Sanghyeok offered him some food that everyone realized he was drunk—slurring his words and blinking dazedly.
Shaking the fog out his mind, Hyunjoon downed another shot and sighed. Suddenly, he felt something lean against him.
Wooje had put his head on Hyunjoon’s shoulder. It wasn’t anything new—he’d done it more times than Hyunjoon could count by now— but this time felt different. Different in that, Wooje’s eyes were closed, and his skin was warm, and his cheeks were flushed. So, so, so flushed.
Hyunjoon felt his heart pick up.
“Y’know, Joonie,” Wooje slurred. His voice was low and quiet. “I really do hate myself, sometimes.”
Hyunjoon blinked, then blinked again.
“Why…the hell would’ja say that?” he replied hesitantly. “You…you shouldn’t hate yourself. You’re Wooje.”
Wooje giggled and scooted closer to Hyunjoon, so that his hair brushed Hyunjoons jaw.
“You’re silly, Hyunjoon. So silly. And dumb. You really don’t notice anything, do you?”
Hyunjoon furrowed his brow. He couldn’t understand what Wooje was saying. Was he drunker than he thought?
“That’s mean, Woojeng,” Hyunjoon slurred. “Yer’ mean.”
Slowly, Hyunjoon rested his head against Wooje’s.
“Whaddya mean by what you said earlier, though?”
Wooje paused.
“I…dunno. I just keep getting the feeling that I’m doing something I shouldn’t be. Like I’m…gross, I guess.”
“Whaaat?” Hyunjoon slurred, pulling Wooje closer. “Who said you’re gross? Yer’ not gross. Besides, what d’you mean ‘doing something you shouldn’t?’ We won Worlds, dumbass. You did everything right.”
There was a long, warm moment of silence, and Hyunjoon was close to assuming Wooje had fallen asleep, when he suddenly spoke again.
“It’s like, I know I shouldn’t be feeling the way I do because it’s weird and it’s sick. But I still am. And that’s why I keep taking advantage of the fact that you’re dumb.”
“Ay!” Hyunjoon murmured indignantly. “That’s even meaner, Woojeng…”
“And like, I know you don’t know anything, but if you did, you’d probably hate me. That’s why I…hate myself. I’m gross, Hyunjoon. You have no idea.”
Nothing Wooje was saying made any sense to him, but Hyunjoon still hated the way Wooje was talking. He needed to cheer him up.
Without warning, Hyunjoon wrapped his arms around Wooje’s shoulders and pulled him close, burying Wooje’s face in his chest. Hyunjoon propped his chin on his head.
“Don’t talk about Wooje like that,” Hyunjoon murmured, voice low and scratchy. “Wooje’s the best person I’ve ever met. Nothing will ever, ever make me hate ‘im.”
There was a long moment of silence. Then,
“Really?”
“Really, Woojeng. Nothing.”
And even now, even a whole year, a whole goddamn heart he had to pick up off the ground and glue back together, Hyunjoon still believed what he said.
It was still true, after all.
The break after winning Worlds was uneventful at best. Hyunjoon had refused tooth-and-nail to return to his hometown, telling enough lies to secure him the nicest spot in hell—and had spent the majority of his free time lounging around and playing any Steam game he could find.
Hyunjoon didn’t really know why he hadn’t wanted to go home. He’d said it was too hot, that the Wi-Fi was shit, that the air was smokey and the pollen made him sneeze, but truth be told— it wasn’t any of those reasons.
Wooje had left to visit his grandparents somewhere far north (not North Korea, dumbass, Wooje had groaned over the phone) and thus Hyunjoon was left alone and bored.
He’d hung out with Minhyung a few times, who’d always insisted on bringing Minseok for some reason, and he duo-queued with a few others—Hyukkyu, Wangho, whoever was online and bored enough to join him.
It was only after a whole week of no response from Wooje, however, that Hyunjoon finally came to terms with the fact that, god—was he freaking out.
Hyunjoon had thought it was obvious they’d all re-sign. They’d just won Worlds, hadn’t they? Their value was sky-high, their opportunities for a legacy at T1 better than ever. And well, they played well, didn’t they?
Hyunjoon tried not to think of the fact that other agencies knew that too.
He was still on a Discord call with Jeonghyeon when Wooje suddenly called him.
“Hey, dude,” Hyunjoon said, immediately jumping out of his chair. “I'm gonna dodge queue and hang up, okay?”
“Wait, what?” Jeonghyeon asked, confused. “What’s wrong? Did something—”
And with that, Hyunjoon clicked out of the call and opened FaceTime.
“Hi,” he panted, flopping onto his bed.
“Hey,” Wooje chirped. The audio was scratchy. “Dude, I’m so, so sorry for not responding. The internet cut out for like two weeks ‘cause of a snowstorm.”
“A snowstorm?” Hyunjoon laughed. “What, are you in the tundra or something?”
“Might as well be,” Wooje sulked. “It’s fucking freezing over here. And the Wi-Fi’s shit. Anyways, have you signed the contract yet?”
“Yep,” Hyunjoon replied, as casually as he could.
“Same here. I signed right before I left for my grandparent’s house, actually.”
Hyunjoon sighed. Of course he did. They’d be back soon, anyways.
“Good to hear,” Hyunjoon grinned. “By the way, did you see that article that called us ‘the best top-jungle duo’ in the world?”
“Duh,” Wooje laughed. “You sent it to me twice.”
“What’d you think?”
“Maybe a little exaggerated but overall…I thought it was pretty accurate.”
Hyunjoon flopped over on his mattress and put the phone closer to his ear.
“Oh really?”
“Mhm. Don’t get too excited, though. We still gotta win LCK a few more times before they go singing our praises. Kiin and Canyon are fucking terrifying.”
“Dude,” Hyunjoon laughed. “They’re older than us. Of course we got our asses whooped.”
“Mhm. God, I hope that never happens again.”
“Totally.”
As a matter of fact, it did happen again.
The universe must’ve thought it was fucking hilarious, with how twisted its humour was—and really, if it’d been anyone else’s life other than Hyunjoon’s, he would’ve found it ironic just how hopeful and happy he’d been at the beginning of 2024.
2024 was the year everything had slipped away, got thrust back into his hands for a brief, beautiful moment, before exploding right in his face like a molotov cocktail.
It would’ve been kind of funny had it not hurt so much.
The year had started off with DDoS, which Wooje tried and failed dozens of times to explain to him. All Hyunjoon knew was that they couldn’t play League when they wanted to—which sucked. He’d hoped they’d do better than last year, too, rebound and grab a few LCK titles during the season, but after the Spring Split, all they ever seemed to do was lose.
It was a little different this time. Slowly but surely, Hyunjoon had become numb to losing. Would pull off his headphones and walk out the door, grunt a few goodbyes, before heading home and watching Netflix. Early in the season, he’d already come to the horrible, gut-wrenching realization that while losses didn’t sting anymore, they didn’t drive him to work harder, either. That ugly thought hung over his head the entire year, filling his sleepless nights and twisting around his stomach every time they entered LoL Park.
They’d started off the year with snow. Hyunjoon had seen exactly five first-snows of the year with Wooje, starting from when they were rookies and counting up until then. There wasn’t any reason, however, as to why he’d remembered that fact.
(Or at least, any reason he wanted to acknowledge.)
Hyunjoon had been sitting in the practice room, waiting for soloqueue to pop, when Wooje suddenly barreled into the room.
“Hyunjoon!” he chirped. “Look outside! Look!”
“Huh—?”
And before he knew it, Wooje was dragging him out the room and towards one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Snow was falling from the pale, grey sky—fluttering to the ground and accumulating in a thick blanket. Hyunjoon stared and stared.
“Pretty, huh?” Wooje breathed beside him.
“It’s not like you haven’t seen snow before,” Hyunjoon snorted in reply. However, his heart had already begun speeding up.
“Let’s go see it together!”
“Wait, what? But it’s so cold—”
Somehow, in some way, Hyunjoon ended up standing in an empty lot behind the building, watching Minseok and Wooje kick through the snow as their breaths fogged up the air. Minhyung stood quietly beside him, hands in his pockets.
Hyunjoon looked up at the sky. He could feel snowflakes settling on his eyelashes. Breathing out, the air in front of him swirled into white clouds.
“You aren’t gonna join them?” Minhyung murmured.
“I will,” Hyunjoon replied. “I just wanna watch the snow for a bit, though.”
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
Hyunjoon hesitated. Of course it was pretty. It was late evening, but that didn’t matter since the whole world was a blinding white—soft grey and brilliant, vibrant and breathless like the cusp of something wild. Snow fell down on them, picturesque in every sense of the word, and all Hyunjoon could do was watch. His chest ached, for some reason.
“I guess.”
“Hey, Hyunjoon!” Wooje yelled from a few feet away. “Why’re you just standing there? Get over here!”
“Play by yourself for a minute, can’t you?” Hyunjoon yelled back. “I wanna watch for a sec!”
“Never thought you were the sentimental type, huh,” Minhyung murmured next to him. “You got a soft spot for snow?”
“Am not,” Hyunjoon frowned. “And I don’t have a ‘soft spot’ either, whatever that means.”
“Sure, sure. You think this year’s gonna be fun?”
“Of course it will. We’re the same as last year, aren’t we?”
“I guess.”
The two watched quietly as Wooje and Minseok began throwing snowballs at each other, laughing and bickering like rabbits dancing in the snow. Suddenly, Minhyung smiled.
“It’s the first snow of the year,” he chuckled. “And we’re spending it watching other dudes chuck ice at each other. Funny, huh?”
“That’s gay, dude,” Hyunjoon groaned. “You’re supposed to watch the first snow with your girlfriend—”
Suddenly, Hyunjoon was hit by a freezing-cold projectile on the cheek. He nearly fell over in surprise, clapping a gloved hand to his face. He turned around.
Standing in front of him was Wooje, bright-eyed and breathless. Hyunjoon tried not to notice his flushed cheeks, the way his lips looked so red against in white background.
Wooje was grinning—grinning in an ecstatic, teasing kind of way. Like a fox.
“You–!” Hyunjoon sputtered, before suddenly reaching down for a chunk of snow.
“Get back here, brat!”
And so Hyunjoon chased after him, smiling so hard his face hurt, smiling as Wooje ran and laughed, ran and laughed. They threw snow at each other, first in handfuls and then in massive clumps, prancing through the snow like the woodland animals Hyunjoon once saw in children’s books. Bright red foxes, warm brown bears, a deer or two.
His nose was running, his lungs hurt, his eyes were watering. But that was all drowned out by the giddiness in his chest, the elation of the cold, biting air running through his hair. The world, all of a sudden, was white—blinding like flashes of heaven, like everything had suddenly blinked into 4K. It was euphoric. It was exhilarating.
Hyunjoon felt another snowball connect with his chest, before bending down to grab one of his own.
“That’s the last one you’ll get!” he laughed, breathlessly. “Don’t you dare hide from me—”
And that’s when Hyunjoon froze.
He hadn’t noticed the moment Wooje suddenly went quiet, hadn’t noticed the moment the laughter from his direction stopped.
The world was beautiful, the air was crisp, the snow was falling down on them like a feathery dream, and—
Wooje was crying.
Wooje was crying.
Every atom, every miniscule, buzzing brain cell in Hyunjoon’s entire being froze.
It was wrong, somehow. Everything around them was bright and fresh—like a perfect memory, like the inside of a snow globe. But Wooje was crying.
His expression didn’t match the moment. It didn’t match the giddy, lighthearted banter they had mere seconds ago, didn’t match the cackling and laughing and grinning as they pelted each other with snow.
It was that very dissonance, that very contrast, that made Hyunjoonn feel like the fabric of reality had somehow torn wide open.
“W-Wooje…” Hyunjoon breathed, walking towards him. “What’s wrong…?”
Wooje didn’t respond. Instead, he began crying harder.
That was the first and only time Hyunjoon had ever seen Wooje cry. His face was scrunched up and tears pooled in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks in clear, wet trails. Wooje had a round, soft face—one that felt painful to look at when it was scrunched like that. His nose bridge was wrinkled, his lips tensed in a thin line, and his eyebrows furrowed in the way they did when he pouted. There was pain in that crying, in the tears that ran down his face and dripped from his jaw.
It scared Hyunjoon shitless how silently he cried. How even though there was so much emotion in that flushed, tear-stained face, Wooje didn’t make a sound.
“Wooje…” Hyunjoon tried again, gently. He began walking towards him. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Did you hurt yourself?”
Wooje just shook his head. Tears fell from his eyes, faster and faster
While Hyunjoon would never admit it, Wooje’s eyes shone the brightest when he cried. Like there were hundreds of crystals refracted there, like a diamond chandelier smashed to pieces.
Hyunjoon’s chest felt like it was going to tear right open. The ache didn’t ache anymore, but had instead turned into agony. He couldn’t stand seeing Wooje crying like that, couldn’t bear seeing Wooje’s face all scrunched up, so silent, so sad—
Before his brain could react, Hyunjoon ran through the snow and pulled Wooje into his arms.
Shocked, Wooje went limp and fell over, hurtling towards the snow and bringing Hyunjoon down with him.
Hyunjoon felt the cold against his palms. He’d landed right on top of Wooje, so that the two were now face-to-face, with Hyunjoon’s arms mere inches from Wooje’s head. Wooje stared up at him, eyes wide and watery.
Hyunjoon stared back. It was cold—so, so cold as the snow slowly melted and seeped into his clothes.
Then, Hyunjoon pulled off his gloves. He threw them to the side, feeling the air bite and sting at his skin, before starting to wipe the tears off Wooje’s cheeks.
His hands were trembling. They were probably rough, probably calloused, probably unholy and unkind—but in that very moment, they touched Wooje’s burning-hot skin like he was cherishing something.
Hyunjoon couldn’t find the words to describe what it felt like. Wooje’s tears made his skin feel smooth, easy. Hyunjoon moved his thumb in slow, gentle circles under Wooje’s eye. Wooje used to have a mole there, back in their trainee days. Hyunjoon never knew where it went.
“What’s wrong?” Hyunjoon murmured again, softly.
Wooje stared up at him for a long moment. He wasn’t crying anymore, to Hyunjoon’s relief.
“I-It’s,” Wooje choked out, sniffling and coughing. “I-It’s nothing.”
“Really, it’s fine,” Hyunjoon crooned, moving his fingers over Wooje’s cheeks again. “You’re scaring me, Woojeng. Just tell me what hurts, okay? I’ll try to make it better.”
Wooje’s face scrunched up, like he was about to cry again.
“W-woah, woah,” Hyunjoon yelped quietly, “don’t start crying again, shh shh. There there. It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me, alright?”
Slowly, Wooje’s face relaxed.
“I-I just,” Wooje whispered, voice wet and thin. “I-I don’t know why…I’m sorry…”
“Don’t apologize, dude,” Hyunjoon replied. “If anything, I should be the one apologizing. You got upset all of a sudden, and I didn’t even notice until now…I’m sorry.”
Wooje shook his head.
“D-don’t say that…”
The two stayed like that, lying in the snow as more fell silently around them. They stayed as their breath fogged up the air, as their chests rose and fell like waves in that delicate, dying moment.
Then, like every other time Wooje ended up in Hyunjoon’s arms, Hyunjoon pulled away.
“Seriously,” Hyunjoon sighed, flopping down next to him in the snow. “If there’s anything you need to say at all, I’m here. You can tell me anything.”
Wooje was silent for a long, long time. It was cold, lying there, but Hyunjoon felt comfortable. Numb.
“Sure,” Wooje finally whispered.
“Sure, Hyunjoon.”
The first time Hyunjoon pushed Wooje away, it hurt more than he’d expected.
They were in a waiting room for MSI, sitting on a couch while staff buzzed around them like bees in a hive. Everyone was there—coaches, cameras, makeup artists and translators. Hyunjoon didn’t even know how many people there were, much less if the cameras were rolling or not.
He’d been scrolling on his phone, when he suddenly felt Wooje’s head on his shoulder. Wooje had been doing that more often over the years, and it still made Hyunjoon’s heart jump every time.
Hyunjoon let him lie there. He let him lie there for a long, silent second. Then, suddenly, Hyunjoon was aware of every single pair of eyes in the entire room. He was aware of every whisper, every word, every gesture they made. It was as if a line of ants were crawling up his back—uncomfortable, unable to be ignored.
He watched as one of the staff members leaned in and whispered something to another.
The room felt suffocating. Hyunjoon’s stomach sank, sank faster and harder than anything he’d ever felt before.
Then, he pushed Wooje off.
It was a small push, barely even the nudge of his shoulder, but Hyunjoon immediately felt the weight of Wooje’s head disappear.
He looked over. Wooje was staring at him with a weird expression.
“What?” Wooje whispered.
“There’s people here,” Hyunjoon replied.
Wooje paused for a brief moment, before scooting away from him. It was barely an inch, barely any notable amount of distance, but it stung like hell. It stung and stung, and even as Hyunjoon scrolled through Instagram, even as the staff began trickling out the room—it wouldn’t go away.
There were several kinds of pain in life. Some came from hunger, or health, or a multitude of things. But Hyunjoon found that with enough repetitions, any kind of pain would go away. No matter how much it hurt the first time.
2024 was different from all the other years. Any other year, they were just another team, a team held to high standards, of course, but definitely not a team that had won Worlds with a roster of rookies and the most famous veteran to ever live.
So there was more publicity. And there were more staff, more makeup people, more stylists and translators and interviews. And most importantly, there were more cameras.
Combined with the constant scrutiny Hyunjoon knew they were under, he’d always felt tense outside of the dorms. They weren’t losing, but they weren’t bringing home trophies, either, and for every sweet comment he saw, there’d always be another one under it doubting them. Paired with the increased eyes, and the increased publicity they had, Hyunjoon was suffocating.
Truth be told, he’d always been afraid of other people. Deathly, terribly afraid of other people. They saw him. They judged him. They took in the way he looked and talked and made conclusions about him they’d never, ever say, only letting them show in the way they treated him. There were a million different people perceiving him, a thousand more who came and went with mundane interactions, and a small group of people that saw him every single day. And all of them, every single one of them, were making their own judgements with everything he did.
So Hyunjoon committed to the bit.
It was exhausting, living that way. He was puffing himself up like a small animal when frightened—overcompensating with confidence, toughness, putting on a kind of rowdy image crafted specifically so no one would ever, ever doubt his ‘manliness’.
Men like him were treated well. Men like him were the norm, the status quo, the baseline needed to be met in order to be accepted.
Hyunjoon was too scared to consider if he was anything else.
And so, when Wooje scooted closer to him, while the eyes, the cameras, trained on them multiplied and multiplied, Hyunjoon pushed him away.
And it hurt less and less each time.
Of course, the ache never fully faded. There was always something fundamentally painful about forcing the thing you want to pull closer, to leave.
But Hyunjoon found it easier, sometimes, to swallow that ache, to bottle it up and only let it see the light of day at 3AM in his bedroom, than face the ugly thoughts people would have about him if he fell out of character.
Some people, with enough time, played their character so well that they actually became them. And at times, Hyunjoon secretly wished that would happen to him too. But Hyunjoon knew it never would.
He knew, because Wooje still existed close enough to put his head on his shoulder.
Throughout the gut-wrenching nightmare that was most of the year, Hyunjoon had very few memories that weren’t stressing about League, telling Wooje to get off him because “there’s people”, and sitting on the edge of his bed every night.
However, for those few outliers that existed, Hyunjoon guarded them in his heart like the goddamn Mona Lisa.
It was the night after they’d lost against GenG, in some game in some Split for some season—Hyunjoon had lost track a long time ago—and Hyunjoon was standing in front of Wooje’s dorm room.
He’d sensed that something had changed between them since the beginning of the year. Ever since Hyunjoon started pulling away, Wooje had done the same, in slower, lesser degrees. He’d stopped wrapping his arm around Hyunjoon, stopped leaning against him on the couch, stopped putting his head on Hyunjoon’s shoulder. And it was exactly because Hyunjoon had no one to blame but himself, that he felt stupid—stupid, stupid, stupid for being so scared.
Of what? Hyunjoon didn’t know. He’d been scared all his life.
Now, staring at the wood grain on Wooje’s door, Hyunjoon hesitated. He couldn’t sleep— hadn’t slept in a long time, now that he thought about it. It’d become a habit at this point to run to Wooje’s room every time that happened, every time they lost and Hyunjoon felt lonely.
Hyunjoon knocked.
Slowly, Wooje opened the door.
People had always told Hyunjoon he’d changed a lot over the past few years. New hair, new swagger, new style.
But Wooje was different. Wooje had always been the same, had always been Wooje. Standing in the doorframe, staring at him, Wooje looked the exact same way he had when they were trainees, sneaking out past curfew for snacks.
“Whaddya want, Joonie?” Wooje mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
“Do you want to go to the Han River with me?”
“What?”
Standing on the banks of the most romantic river in Korea, Hyunjoon didn’t know what to say anymore. It was warmer this time of year, and Wooje had shuffled out the door in nothing but pajamas and slippers.
It was fine, Hyunjoon thought to himself. No one would see them, anyways.
The two stared across the water in silence. Cicadas sang, filling the quiet between them. Finally, Wooje spoke.
“Why’d you wanna come here?” he murmured. “It’s so…late.”
“I…” Hyunjoon hesitated. “I dunno. I just wanted to.”
“Is it because we lost?”
“Maybe.”
Wooje let out a soft laugh, almost like a sigh. Hyunjoon pretended it didn't make him smile.
“Well, that’s nothing new,” Wooje continued. “Why the Han river, though?”
“Because…remember when we went here once? Before the roster cut when we were trainees?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s…it’s our debut anniversary today. Technically. We got accepted into the roster on the same day, y’know.”
Wooje went quiet for a few moments beside him. Then,
“Damn. You really remembered?”
“How could I not?” Hyunjoon snorted. “I was actually shitting myself the whole month before the decisions, it was fucking terrible—”
And that’s when Wooje grabbed Hyunjoon by the wrist and began pulling him down towards the water.
“W-whoa!” Hyunjoon yelped, nearly falling over. “What’re you—?”
“We sat by the water that day, too. Remember?”
It was at that moment that the moonlight hit Wooje’s face at the perfect angle, and Hyunjoon saw that he was smiling. His mind went blank.
Standing by the edge of the water, Wooje finally let go of his wrist. The tide was up due to the season, and there wasn’t anywhere to sit, so they stood side-by-side looking out across the river.
“Man,” Wooje mumbled, barely loud enough to hear. “Guess there’s nowhere to sit like last time.”
They were standing close together—close enough that Hyunjoon could reach out and brush hands with him. He wondered when he’d become so aware of the space between them.
“It was basically winter back then,” Hyunjoon replied. “The tide’s higher this time of year.”
“It’s changed, though. It didn’t used to be this high so early.”
Hyunjoon didn’t like the way those words felt.
“Nuh-uh. I bet the water was just more frozen back then.”
“It wasn’t that cold, dumbass.”
A pause. Then,
“Hey, Hyunjoon?”
“Hm?”
“All those promises we made back then…do you—do you think things will change?”
And for once in his life, Hyunjoon knew the right answer to a question but didn’t want to say it. Instead, he reached for Wooje’s hand.
He reached out, slipping his fingers between Wooje’s own, and held it.
Wooje jumped ever so slightly, like a spark of electricity had shot through him. He paused. And then, he held Hyunjoon back—squeezed his hand gently, reciprocating in a way Hyunjoon didn’t really know how to describe, just that he knew they were both holding each other.
Hyunjoon had always loved Wooje’s hands. They were one of his favorite parts about him—soft and pale, with well-trimmed nails and chubby enough that Hyunjoon could squeeze the flesh there like dough.
Wooje’s hand was warm, and Hyunjoon desperately hoped his palms weren’t sweaty. That his own rough hands didn’t feel uncomfortable compared to Wooje’s.
“Promises never change,” Hyunjoon replied quietly. “That’s why they’re promises.”
Wooje squeezed his hand just a little, and Hyunjoon’s heart sped up.
“You promise?”
Hyunjoon laughed, soft and barely there.
Later, once he was older and more tired, he’d learnt that people demanded promises not because they didn’t trust someone, but because of fear within them.
“Isn’t that like, a paradox?”
“Don’t care.”
“Fine, then,” Hyunjoon smiled. “I promise.”
And just like that night when Wooje had first put his head on his shoulder, Hyunjoon held Wooje’s hand like it was about to disappear. He held onto that trembling, tender moment, and refused to let go.
Of course the universe let him catch a brief glimpse of happiness before plunging him back into purgatory.
He’d been lying in bed, hugging a pillow to his chest and scrolling through whatever, when he’d suddenly gotten a text message from his mom.
Hyunjoon sat up straight. His mother rarely texted.
Hesitating for a moment, Hyunjoon finally clicked on the little message icon. The app decided to buffer for a brief moment.
Then, he saw the picture.
It was an old one, probably from back in 2023, of Hyunjoon with his arm around Wooje in the analysis booth at LoL Park. The quality was shit, and the colors were off, but it was still recognizably him. And Wooje.
His mom had zoomed in excessively, probably why the photo was so grainy, and had circled Wooje’s head in bright red.
Mom: Who’s this?
Hyunjoon’s stomach dropped lower than ever before. He felt nauseous, simultaneously cold and hot while trembling all over. His hands shook.
Hyunjoon: a friend. why?
Mom: Saw this picture on Kakaostory. It had a weird caption
Hyunjoon waited for his mom’s next message. The back of his throat hurt, for some reason.
Mom: I recognized you but not the other boy. You should introduce your friends to us.
Slowly, the ropes wrapped around Hyunjoon’s gut began loosening. He let out a long, hearty sigh.
Hyunjoon: sure
He’d never introduced any of his friends in Seoul to his parents. He hadn’t felt like it—and besides, they knew all his friends back in Hwasun, didn’t they? Hyunjoon sometimes felt like he was living a double life in Seoul, keeping the two worlds as separate as possible.
Mom: I know the pollen’s bad, but come visit us back home. Your friends say they miss you
Her words made him feel sick, for some reason. Hyunjoon knew his answer already: fuck no —but didn’t know why. Maybe he really was turning into a “city boy”, or whatever his friends rambled about after a few beers.
Hyunjoon didn’t bother answering. He laid back down and swiped out of their conversation.
Then, he chucked his phone at the wall.
They were sitting in the waiting room before facing DK in the playoffs, and Hyunjoon was approximately ten seconds away from screaming.
There were very few times in life he’d hit a wall like this—a wall where no matter how much he tried, no matter how many times he read the draft notes and slammed his ults, they just didn’t win. This was their second shot at making Worlds, and if they lost, there was always KT, Hyunjoon had told himself. But he’d found himself saying that more than he’d liked: “there's always next time, there's always next time.”
It was a loser’s mentality. A weakling’s.
Even now, despite the electricity running through the air, the team higher-ups still found it appropriate to film membership content—-due to the need to monetize every second of their miserable lives, probably. On top of the cameras, there were also a few staff members puttering around, checking equipment and adjusting mics. However, it was emptier than usual.
Wooje was sitting next to him on the couch. He’d gotten a little closer to Hyunjoon after that night by the river, had started leaning on him again, had even begun grabbing his hand when no one was looking.
It kept Hyunjoon up at night, trying to unravel the fear and elation he felt every time Wooje did that. He could almost compare it to a dirty secret. Except, Wooje wasn’t dirty. Hyunjoon just felt that way.
Now, he could feel Wooje’s presence beside him like a raging bonfire. Wooje wasn’t scooting closer, wasn’t even leaning on him, but Hyunjoon still felt uncomfortable. He glanced around at the cameras. He glanced around at the staff.
Then, out of instinct, Hyunjoon scooted away.
Wooje paused and looked at him, furrowing his brow.
“What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Hyunjoon whispered. “And keep your voice down, please.”
“Why’d you move away from me?”
“The cameras. I dunno.”
“Why would they be looking at us? Hell, why would you even care if people were watching? I’m literally just sitting next to you.”
Wooje’s voice wasn’t loud, but just enough above a whisper that Hyunjoon felt something twist around his stomach, around his chest and throat. His neck began heating up.
“Please keep your voice down, Woojeng.”
“Why? Why are you acting like this? There’s not even that many people here!”
His voice was rising, rising decibel by decibel, and that scream in Hyunjoon’s chest began rising too. He was nervous. People were watching, were whispering, the staff, the cameras—
“You’ve been acting weird, Hyunjoon,” Wooje continued. He was loud enough that the whole room could hear him now.
“Why do you keep moving away from me? Is there something so wrong with me sitting next to you? Hell, it’s not just that either, you’ve been acting like you’re scared of something—-”
“Shut up! ” Hyunjoon roared.
The room went dead silent.
Hyunjoon couldn’t look at Wooje, couldn’t believe the words that had just torn out his mouth like a bullet out a barrel. There was something inside his chest, eating away at his heart, and it was unbearable, the kind of ugly feeling that made him want to run away and hide.
It burned inside, and Hyunjoon stared at the floor.
He’d needed to shut Wooje up, to stop the words that were coming out his mouth. He told himself that he was afraid of other people hearing them. He also told the voice saying that he, too, was also afraid of hearing them, to shut the hell up and die.
Finally, the silence was broken by coach Kkoma.
“Hyunjoon?” he asked quietly. “What was that all about? Why did you…?”
Hyunjoon’s mind buffered. He didn’t know what to say—
“We were talking about League, coach,” Wooje replied smoothly. His back was towards Hyunjoon. “We were arguing about whether or not tanks were better than carries.”
Hyunjoon couldn’t read Wooje’s tone at all. It almost resembled a customer service agent.
“Well,” coach Kkoma sighed, “it’s good that you two are talking, but I suggest not having any…arguments before the match. It might impact our performance.”
Wooje nodded. Then, without hesitation, he stood up and walked to the other side of the room, before sitting down on a bean bag and pulling out his phone. Not once did he look in Hyunjoon’s direction, not even as they walked into the arena, not even as they packed their bags after the game.
They’d lost, of course. Hyunjoon firmly believed karma was a bitch—and a fair one, at that.
Hyunjoon had rushed to pack up afterwards, shoving his keyboard in without closing his bag, all just to catch up with Wooje. He didn’t know what he’d say when he did, didn’t even know how to explain anything. But he still needed to, for some reason.
However, as soon as Hyunjoon arrived in the waiting room, he found it empty.
That was the first time in five years Wooje had left without him.
Wooje avoided him like the plague for the next few weeks.
They’d made it to Worlds, thankfully, after a hellish best-of-five against KT Rolster that frankly still gave Hyunjoon nightmares to this day. There was a break, a few weeks of jailing themselves in a hotel to play League for fifteen hours a day, and then suddenly, they were on a plane zipping off to Paris.
Hyunjoon should have been a seasoned veteran by now. This was his third Worlds, three more than half of the whole LCK.
However, despite his constant denial, despite his sleep-deprivation and painfully “nonchalant” demeanor, Moon Hyunjoon was scared shitless.
They were coming in as the fourth seed—lower than anyone had expected, low enough that they were doubted yet watched intently for whether or not they’d find their “World's form” again. It’d been fine the first two years, Hyunjoon thought. It’ been fine, and nowhere near this scary, all because of—
Wooje. Wooje had been there every second of the tournament, barely an arm’s length away.
Now, he wasn’t even looking at Hyunjoon anymore.
He’d ignored Hyunjoon’s feeble texts, ignored his stares from across the room, and made sure to stay as far away as possible from him at any given moment.
It was even more hellish than his mom suspecting he was gay, in Hyunjoon’s opinion.
Hyunjoon hadn’t realized how lonely he was before meeting Wooje up until then. Confusingly enough, Hyunjoon had always thought he liked to be alone. There was no one judging, no one perceiving him in the comfort of his own bedroom. He didn’t have to put on a show like with his friends, or his girlfriend, or his parents. As long as he hated the real, ugly Hyunjoon behind his iron-clad persona, he’d always have to pretend. And it sucked every ounce of joy out of his relationships.
Wooje had been different. Wooje had made it clear that he didn’t need to put on his show. And slowly but surely, the ugly, vulnerable and forty-other-embarrassing-adjectives Hyunjoon had emerged. He’d dropped his act, all that boasting, that impenetrable shell he’d formed around himself of toughness and masculinity, and felt the touch of someone else for the first time in his life. And he loved it.
Wooje was different from the girls he liked. There wasn’t anything pretty or mysterious about him. Wooje was Wooje, and Hyunjoon had come to accept that warm feeling that came with his presence as just a part of him.
He’d been too scared to dwell on if it was anything else.
It was that overwhelming loneliness that kept Hyunjoon in agony for most of Worlds, combined with the stress and scrutiny they were under. However, no matter how much Hyunjoon wanted to run over to Wooje’s room and flop down next to him, he could never find the balls to do it.
Looking back, Hyunjoon should have realized sooner. No matter how “manly” he tried to act, in the end he was still too scared to even knock on someone’s door.
By some funny twist of fate, Hyunjoon was able to turn the hell he was in into a fiery desire to win. He wanted it more than anything—more than sleep, more than any trophy in any tournament he’d ever played in. It might’ve been to re-build his confidence, or to avenge their losses over the year. But either way, Hyunjoon played like his life depended on it, and for a lack of better words—popped off.
They went 3-1 in Swiss. It was good, it was great, it felt like heaven after the path they took to get there.
And they kept on winning.
Weibo fell in a clean 3-0, refreshing and ego-boosting. It’d felt like a blur to Hyunjoon—one minute they were walking into the arena, the next they were fistbumping the other team. GenG, on the other hand, had been terrifying leading up to the match, but took only one game before losing.
Hyunjoon couldn’t find the words to describe how amazing it felt—to finally, finally beat the team that’d made the past three years feel like hell on earth.
Minseok had screamed into his mic as soon as the Nexus fell, and the five of them jumped out of their chairs as Minhyung wrapped Minseok in a hug while Sanghyeok smiled behind them.
Hyunjoon hardly noticed that he, too, had run to the person next to him.
Before his brain could react, Hyunjoon had grabbed Wooje and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, eyes widening only seconds into it. To his surprise, however, Wooje hugged him back, just a little bit, before Hyunjoon pulled away.
After a brief regrouping, the five of them threw their arms around each other while laughing and shaking like they’d stumbled out alive after a war. Hyunjoon couldn’t deny he felt about the same. There were a few sparklers, the music was blaring, the crowd roared.
There wasn’t even a moment to breathe, however, before they were thrown into the Finals.
Hyunjoon wanted to remember the games they played against BLG, really. But every time he reached back into his brain for those memories, all he’d find was a loud, exhilarating blur. His heart had been pumping so fast he’d barely had time to think, much less remember.
Hyunjoon had little to no recollection of the games. It was the moment they won, however, that he'd never forget.
The Nexus had fallen first. It fell, as thousands of Nexuses had before, in every mundane soloqueue game ever where Hyunjoon would usually click out before it fully crumbled. But now, now Hyunjoon watched it explode, watched it cave into a beam of light, shattering to pieces— before jumping out of his chair and running into Wooje’s arms.
Maybe he’d pulled off his headphones first. Maybe sparklers had exploded around them, the crowd screaming at the top of their lungs. But in that moment, all Hyunjoon could remember was the way Wooje had felt, the warmth, the faint sweatiness of his neck.
They’d hugged and hugged, and Hyunjoon was on top of the world.
Finally, the two were pulled into a circle, with Sanghyeok, and Minhyung, and Minseok—who was already crying—and they laughed and laughed while clutching each other’s jackets, patting and slapping each other like they didn’t know what to do with their hands anymore. They had their arms around each other, and Hyunjoon could feel their bodies shaking. And they should shake, he thought, because the whole world was crackling with electricity, the euphoria of victory running through them like a current.
The arena was deafening, the cheers all theirs—and Hyunjoon looked around for just a split second to see that the crowd was flashing dark indigo and white—the colors of a perfect night sky, of the moon reflected across the surface of the Han river.
Minseok was crouched over, crying. There was so much movement, so many hands grabbing and patting and shaking Hyunjoon, that he could barely tell whose was whose. Maybe his eyes were getting a little watery, and maybe his nose was running and his chest felt like it was going to combust, but Hyunjoon didn’t care anymore.
The universe was all theirs.
Finally, after a long, messy group hug, the five of them walked to the center stage for fistsbumps and a bow.
Hyunjoon took the moment to look out at the arena, at the crowd who was so loud he could hardly hear himself think. Beams of light strobed and whirled, the whole stadium illuminated by thousands of light-sticks. They were chanting T1, Hyunjoon realized. They were chanting their name.
Hyunjoon glanced over at the rest of the team, to find that they were waving at the crowd. So Hyunjoon waved too—and for once in his life, he didn’t feel nervous about thousands of people watching him.
Then, all of a sudden, Hyunjoon felt two arms wrap around his waist, before being hoisted into the air.
He whipped around. Wooje was grinning at him, with the widest smile he’d ever seen, holding him, squeezing him. And Hyunjoon laughed.
It was perfect, of course.
Finally, the staff beckoned them to proceed, and Hyunjoon turned to look behind him. They descended the stairs and began walking down a pathway, with the Summoner’s Cup waiting for them at the end. Sparklers exploded along the path’s edges, illuminating everything with a blinding, golden glow.
Hyunjoon threw his arm around Wooje as they walked.
“So,” he said in his ear, loud enough to be heard over the crowd. “Guess this year was worth it, huh?”
Wooje was quiet for a brief moment. Then,
“Your wish came true.”
Hyunjoon turned to look at him. There were sparklers, just like last time, but Hyunjoon knew that it wasn’t their light that made Wooje’s eyes shine so beautifully. It was just Wooje—Wooje in all his flushed, fluffy-haired glory, with that squishy smile and round cheeks that curved around his eyes. The light was golden, and the light was raining down on them, and Wooje was there in all his imperfect perfection.
Hyunjoon had never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his life.
He finally tore his gaze away once he realized he needed to respond.
“It did,” Hyunjoon murmured, pulling Wooje closer. “It really did. We’re the best in the world, Woojeng.”
They ascended those stairs, each step feeling so, so sweet, to the Summoner’s Cup—and on the count of three, the five of them lifted it.
It could’ve been a million pounds, for all Hyunjoon knew, but at that moment, it was lighter than air in their hands. Sparklers, fireworks, whatever bright loud things, exploded around them. Hyunjoon tilted his head back and laughed, laughed and smiled so hard his face hurt.
Then came the individual trophy moments. Minhyung went first, lifting it with a wide grin. He’d changed so much yet so little since their Challengers days, Hyunjoon found himself thinking, still the steadfast, proud guy he’d always been. Then came Minseok, who was still crying, and had to be helped by Minhyung to set the trophy down. Sanghyeok went next, and the crowd went absolutely wild.
Then, Hyunjoon felt someone nudge his shoulder. Wooje smiled at him encouragingly.
Hyunjoon found his hands wrapped around the Summoner’s Cup, the metal cool and smooth beneath his sweaty palms, and he hoisted it into the air. It was heavier that he’d expected—heavy enough that his forearms strained and ached, but he couldn’t have cared less. He tilted his head back and smiled, savoring the moment.
He set the trophy down. Then, he watched as the last person lifted the cup.
Wooje grabbed the trophy and hoisted it giddily, shaking it around in the air like it was many, many pounds lighter than it was. His hair bounced, almost like a cloud, and while his back was facing towards him, Hyunjoon could only imagine the smile on his face.
And as Hyunjoon watched him, framed by the stage lights and glowing pure white, his heart swelled. He didn’t care if the whole country, if the whole world could see the look of love on his face right now.
Let them watch, he thought.
Finally, after a euphoric, deafening moment, Wooje set the trophy down and Hyunjoon put his hands on his own head, just barely beginning to process the situation, just barely aware of the massive smile on his face.
Wooje brought a hand to his head, too. He looked down at it. Then, as if on autopilot, he dashed over to Hyunjoon.
“Dude!” he yelled, still smiling. “I think I’m bleeding!”
“You’re what? ” Hyunjoon exclaimed.
Minhyung burst out laughing, and Sanghyeok rushed over to look at Wooje. Hyunjoon stood there, dumbstruck, before also leaning over to check Wooje’s wound.
It’d been hilarious, and still was to this day. It was only many minutes afterwards that Hyunjoon realized Wooje had hit his head with the trophy, but all he could think at that time was how Wooje was so cute—cute in the giddy way he’d hoisted the trophy, how he’d suddenly turned up bleeding like an idiot. Cute in that he was Wooje, never changing, not even after they’d won Worlds.
The trophy ceremony came and went in a blinding, blurry whoosh, barely legible in Hyunjoon’s memory. What came next was the steakhouse, which had somehow become tradition after winning Worlds.
They’d ordered champagne, and Hyunjoon swore he wouldn’t get drunk that night in case he blacked out and couldn’t remember anything. So he drank it sparingly. The restaurant was dim, warm, and filled with good smells and wide smiles, and slowly, Hyunjoon felt himself relax.
Wooje was sitting next to him. Food had just arrived, and Hyunjoon watched as Wooje stuffed his cheeks, unaware of the smile on his own face.
“Mhmph?” Wooje asked through a mouthful, glancing up at him.
“Chew your food, you baby,” Hyunjoon laughed. “You never change. No one’s gonna steal it from you.”
Wooje swallowed and pouted in his direction.
“Nuh-uh. You steal it from me, sometimes.”
Hyunjoon grinned, before cutting into his own steak and putting a large portion on Wooje’s plate.
“Here’s my apology. Now eat slower.”
With gusto, Wooje forked up the meat and shoved it in his mouth, chewing smugly as Hyunjoon sighed and shook his head.
“Cheers to a new era!” coach Kkoma called from across the table. Hyunjoon looked around as everyone raised their glasses.
“Let’s toast to a new era of T1,” he continued. “One that starts right now. May T1 be the best team in the world next year, and the next!”
Cheering, the whole table clinked glasses and took long, happy gulps. Minhyung laughed as Minseok made a face, setting the champagne on the table and pushing it away from him.
“Why’s it…bubbly?” Minseok murmured, wrinkling his nose.
“To make sure you don’t chug it all in one go,” Hyunjoon replied. “This stuff’s expensive, y’know.”
“Don’t worry, ” Sanghyeok grinned from nearby. “I’ll pay the bill.”
About seven different “no’s” erupted from around the table, and Hyunjoon groaned. Then, while coach Kkoma nagged Sanghyeok, another dish arrived. Hyunjoon looked to his left.
The waiter was holding a small, white cake with a massive sparkler stuck on top of it. It shot up into the air with almost comical violence, spitting sparks of fire everywhere.
Then, with a smile, the waiter began lowering it down in front of Wooje.
“Wha–!” Wooje yelped. His face scrunched up, and he immediately scooted closer to Hyunjoon. Hyunjoon laughed and put his arm around Wooje’s shoulder.
“Why’d we order this thing?” Wooje groaned.
“It said strawberry cake on the menu, okay?” Minseok replied petulantly. “I didn’t know it came with a side of a fire-hazard.”
Hyunjoon watched as the sparkler lit up the table. It glowed golden on Wooje’s face.
Even now, Hyunjoon still thinks of him every time he sees a sparkler.
Reaching over, Hyunjoon pulled the cake closer to them, much to Wooje’s disgust, before blowing on the sparkler. It faded quickly, simmering to just a soft, sparkling glow.
“How’d you do that…?” Wooje murmured in awe.
“They wouldn’t serve it if it actually burned,” Hyunjoon replied, grinning. “Now go on, make a wish.”
“Huh?”
“We’ve got a cake and a candle, haven’t we?”
“But it isn’t my birthday yet—”
“Doesn’t matter. Our wishes seem to come true, don’t they? Let’s make one now for next year.”
Hyunjoon felt Wooje lean closer towards him. He was warm, smelled sweeter than the strawberries dripping with frosting on the cake. Hyunjoon’s heart sped up.
“Mmm, okay then.”
And with that, Wooje closed his eyes and clasped his hands together.
“What’s he doing…?” Minseok began, before Hyunjoon shushed him.
“Makin’ a wish. Now be quiet, ‘cuz this one’s gonna dictate the rest of our next year.”
“Huh…?”
At that moment, Wooje opened his eyes and blew out the sparkler.
“So what’d you wish for?” Minseok asked after the flames had fizzled out.
“Can’t tell you,” Wooje replied, grinning. “Or else it won’t come true.”
Hyunjoon laughed and began reaching for a knife to cut the cake. Suddenly, he felt Wooje grab the side of his neck and pull his head towards him. His heart sped up to an impossible rate.
“Hey, Joonie,” Wooje whispered into his ear. “You wanna hear my wish?”
“I-I thought you said it wouldn’t come true if you said it out loud?”
“Doesn’t count if it’s with you. Remember last time?”
“That’s some dumb logic…”
“It’s true though, isn’t it?.”
Hyunjoon could feel his face burning up, even though he’d only had half a mouthful of champagne. He didn’t need alcohol to get drunk around Wooje, after all.
“Sure, then. Tell me.”
“I wish…” Wooje whispered.
“...that we stay together next year. And the year after that. Until we both retire.”
Hyunjoon’s face flushed an even darker shade of pink, which he hoped Wooje wouldn’t notice under the dim lighting.
“Dumbass,” he murmured. “You should’ve wished that we win Worlds next year. I already said that we’d retire together.”
“Just wanted to make sure,” Wooje replied, smiling. “Two wishes are more likely to come true than just one, right?”
“Same dumb logic.”
“Don’t care.”
“By the way,” Hyunjoon began, furrowing his brow. “Why’d you lift me up on the stage? You seriously caught me off guard.”
Wooje broke into a wide grin.
“It’s ‘cause last year you said you carried me during Worlds. So I had to make sure I could say the same thing this year.”
Hyunjoon groaned, and Minseok giggled from nearby.
“Besides,” Wooje continued. “I really did carry you in game—”
Suddenly, he was met with a glob of frosting to the cheek. Wooje yelped in surprise, before Hyunjoon burst out laughing.
“What was that for?!” Wooje exclaimed, looking back and forth between the cake and Hyunjoon.
“It’s tradition!” Hyunjoon cackled. “Had to make sure the wish would come true!”
“You little—!” Wooje began, reaching for the cake. Suddenly, Minhyung leaned over and slid it out of Wooje’s reach.
“Nuh uh,” Minhyung grinned. “Minseokie ordered it. You can eat it, but don’t smash it all over Hyunjoon’s face, all right?”
Wooje groaned, before suddenly wiping a dollop of frosting off his own cheek and swiping it on Hyunjoon’s nose.
“Hey–!” Hyunjoon yelped. “Unfair!”
“You started it,” Wooje giggled. “Besides, I got it all over your face last time, too. Had to make sure the wish came true.”
“Brat…” Hyunjoon groaned, wiping the frosting off his nose. He watched as Wooje licked some of the cake off the corner of his mouth.
“Really, at least wipe your face,” Hyunjoon sighed, leaning over to grab some tissues. Suddenly, he felt a weight on his shoulder. Wooje had put his head on it again.
“Joonie,” he murmured. “I know you don’t like getting sappy and shit, but I think I’d regret not telling you this.”
Hyunjoon’s heart sped up to an impossible rate. They stayed like that for a moment, letting the chatter of the room wash over them.
“Thanks for being my sun,” Wooje finally whispered.
Even now, Hyunjoon didn’t really understand those words—only remembered the way they’d made him feel.
“That’s…” Hyunjoon faltered. “Well…uh, thank you. Really.”
Hyunjoon didn’t have the words to tell him that he should’ve been the one saying that, that despite everything for the past five years, Wooje had always been there by his side—warm and unchanging, just like the sun.
The two stayed like that for a quiet, cozy moment, and Hyunjoon realized just how much he missed the weight of Wooje’s head. Then, suddenly—
“Wait! You didn’t wipe the frosting off your face!”
Wooje burst out laughing as Hyunjoon immediately pulled his chin up and began wiping the cake off his face, muttering something about his jacket and dry cleaning.
Somehow, in some way, Hyunjoon ended up lying on Wooje’s bed in Wooje’s hotel room that same night, staring as said man laid on his arm while watching Netflix.
It was as if he’d been teleported back to 2023, when the world was all theirs and all that mattered in it was the two of them. Wooje’s head was near his chin, and Hyunjoon leaned in and pressed his face into Wooje’s hair, taking a deep breath.
“What’re you doing?” Wooje groaned, rolling over so that he faced Hyunjoon. “We’re both sweaty, dude.”
“You should go shower,” Hyunjoon replied, grinning.
“Don’t wanna,” Wooje whined, bringing his phone back to his face. “I’m tired.”
“It’s one in the morning. We’re all tired, but everyone else is showering like a responsible—”
“Shh, shh, this is the good part.”
Hyunjoon looked down at Wooje’s screen. On it were two people standing in the rain, presumably while emotional music played in the background.
“What’s going on?”
“They’re just about to kiss.”
“Huh?”
Hyunjoon paused.
“But they’re both dudes.”
The words came out of his mouth like a knee-jerk reaction, as if his brain had somehow been hard-wired to say them.
Wooje paused, and for a second Hyunjoon wondered if he felt him flinch—when Wooje suddenly sat up and scooted away from him.
“That’s a girl, dumbass,” Wooje replied nonchalantly. “She’s just got short hair.”
“Oh,” Hyunjoon replied, not knowing what to say. The vibe between them had somehow shifted.
Slowly, Wooje laid back down facing Hyunjoon, except a few inches away from where he’d been lying on his arm. He returned to watching the show.
“Is it any good?”
“Dunno.”
“I didn’t know you liked those kinds of shows.”
“What did you think I was watching every time you hung around my room?”
Hyunjoon paused, trying to recall all the shows Wooje had watched while lying together.
“Uh…”
“Knew you were never paying attention. This one’s a new drama, anyways. I really, really like these kinds of romances.”
“Bleck.”
“You’re just jealous.”
For the next moment or so, which could’ve been five minutes to an hour for all Hyunjoon knew, Hyunjoon laid there and watched Wooje’s face as he stared down at his phone. He’d never noticed it before, but Wooje was surprisingly expressive. His eyebrows would shoot up, and his eyes would widen, before turning into crescents whenever he smiled. Hyunjoon could practically tell what was happening in the show just by looking at his face.
The room was unbearably hot, too, which would become important in approximately thirty seconds.
Hyunjoon stared and stared. It was probably a sad part in the show, because Wooje was pouting, or maybe he was just making a sad face, and Hyunjoon watched as his brow furrowed into that anguished expression, his lips pouty and slightly bitten.
Hyunjoon knew it was just a sad part of the show, but he couldn’t convince his heart to stop hurting, for some reason.
He stared at those lips.
And suddenly, like a dam breaking inside of him, Hyunjoon was filled with want.
There wasn’t any reason in particular Hyunjoon did what he did. Maybe it was because Wooje looked especially inviting under the warm lighting, or maybe it was because Hyunjoon could feel the distance creeping up between them the longer Wooje laid five inches away. Maybe it was because of the entire year of pushing away, when all Hyunjoon dreamt of was to hold him and never let go.
Maybe it was because Hyunjoon had always wanted more than he’d ever admit.
Whatever the case, Hyunjoon felt himself reach out.
He felt himself grab Wooje’s face, cupping his jaw.
And then, he felt himself pull Wooje into a kiss.
Hyunjoon had no idea pleasure could be this painful. Pleasure was burning —it burned inside Hyunjoon’s chest, in his stomach, in his hands and fingertips, and it burned him up as if he were pressing himself against the sun
Everything throbbed, everything ached, and every inch of him craved and craved for Wooje to just be a millimeter closer. Kissing was the closest thing to pulling him inside Hyunjoon’s heart, the closest thing to uniting their bodies.
Wooje barely had time to react, but in the millisecond he had to process the situation, he flinched, froze—and then kissed Hyunjoon back.
“Kissed” was a vague, vague, verb, and looking back, Hyunjoon doubted it was the perfect one to describe it.
Hyunjoon was holding Wooje’s face, pressing their lips together while Wooje practically melted against him. It was ecstasy, suffocating, of course, but pure ecstasy. They stayed like that for a brief moment—before Hyunjoon pulled Wooje closer, which was surprisingly possible.
Hyunjoon had been told he was a sloppy kisser by all his girlfriends. He hadn’t thought much of it back then. But now, going down of Wooje’s soft, pliant lips, he finally understood what they meant.
Holding the back of his head, Hyunjoon drowned Wooje in kisses, biting his lips, feeling the burning-hot cavity of his mouth, and just pressed —pressed and pressed and pressed, savoring Wooje’s gasps, the small breaths he allowed him.
You could almost call it “eating”, by how greedily Hyunjoon was treating Wooje’s mouth. The sounds they made were embarrassingly loud, wet, and all they did was make Hyunjoon bite down harder.
Suddenly, Hyunjoon felt a hand grab the back of his hair. Wooje was pulling his hair, except towards him, if that even made an atom of fucking sense.
All of a sudden, Hyunjoon’s hands were on Wooje’s jaw, his neck, his cheeks, the fluffy back of his head. Hyunjoon was feeling every burning-hot square inch of Wooje’s body, as if trying to sculpt him from memory. They kissed—and it was desperate and it was sloppy and Hyunjoon had no idea about up or down or left or right, nor did he care about breathing, and apparently Wooje didn’t either. Basically, they were burning up.
Hyunjoon didn’t know how or when, but at some point once his head began spinning from a lack of oxygen, he glanced up and noticed Wooje had ended up on top of him. He was holding Hyunjoon’s face so hard it felt like he was scared of him moving. Wooje peppered a string of wet, soft kisses to Hyunjoon’s lips, tongue darting in and out of his mouth shyly.
If Wooje wasn’t quite literally shutting him up with his mouth right now, Hyunjoon would’ve laughed.
Clutching the back of Wooje’s shirt, Hyunjoon rolled over and pinned Wooje beneath him, pressing one arm into the mattress while the other rested over Wooje’s stomach. Then, he pressed their mouths together in one long, hot, searing kiss— deep enough that Hyunjoon could feel Wooje choking.
While Hyunjoon would’ve found it gross with any other girl, all it did was make the burning in his stomach grow hotter.
Kissing was fun, in Hyunjoon’s opinion, because you basically got high off of oxygen deprivation. And currently, Hyunjoon was in the stratosphere. He was hardly aware of what his body was doing outside of kissing. Desperation, impatience, pure want, dripped from their movements as they tussled on the sheets—and it almost resembled their play-fighting, in a way, with how they switched positions.
Then, after an unidentifiable amount of time other than the fact that it felt long, Hyunjoon felt Wooje’s hands loosen, before ghosting over his own feebly.
Under normal circumstances, this usually signaled the other party was getting tired, and that Hyunjoon should pull away.
But he didn’t.
Even as Wooje grew weaker, less insistent beneath him, Hyunjoon was too scared to stop.
He was too scared to stop, because he didn’t know what came after this.
Finally, after nearly passing out, Hyunjoon flopped down next to Wooje. The two laid panting and gasping, side by side. They were both sweaty, flushed—and it didn’t help that the room felt like a microwave oven at the moment.
It wasn’t silent, of course, but Hyunjoon didn’t know what to say to fill the space between them.
Maybe Wooje was hoping that Hyunjoon would say something, too, because the not-silence stayed the entire time they laid there, until Hyunjoon wordlessly got up and walked out the door.
It felt wrong to just leave like that, but Hyunjoon didn’t know what else to do.
It took exactly one whole week for Wooje to finally coax Hyunjoon out of his room and corner him into a conversation.
During that week, Hyunjoon had spent his time hiding in his dorm, ignoring Wooje’s texts, ignoring the sun, and ignoring everything but that ugly, sinking feeling in his chest. He hadn’t hurt anyone, hadn’t stolen or killed or lied, but for some reason, Hyunjoon still felt like he’d done something wrong.
It had been an instinctual feeling, like ropes twisting around his gut, squeezing his chest and sending waves of nausea through his stomach.
He didn’t know why.
Hyunjoon didn’t believe in God, or Christianity, or whatever his parents talked about when he wasn’t listening. But he remembered something from church, which he repeated in his head like a mantra.
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.
He didn’t know why.
There should’ve been a lot of thinking going on that week—mainly why he’d kissed his best friend, why he felt so guilty and strange, and how on earth he’d face Wooje afterwards. He did, in fact, do a little thinking when he stayed up all night worrying what Wooje thought of him now, what he’d say once they saw each other again.
But for the most part, Hyunjoon spent the week sleeping all day and staying up all night scrolling through porn, never clicking on the thumbnails, until he fell asleep again and the cycle continued.
It was kind of like smashing your head into a wall so you didn’t have to think, in a way. Hyunjoon didn’t know why he’d gravitated to porn—he wasn’t horny, and hadn’t been in a long time. However, he stared at the girls faces, which he never used to do, and tried summoning up as much attraction and desire as he could muster.
Experts might’ve called it something else, but Hyunjoon called it “making sure”. Of what, he didn’t know.
Hyunjoon was exceptionally bad at naming his feelings. His elementary teacher had once pointed to a colorful book of faces, and tapped a smiling man, saying “happy” over and over. His teacher had been lying, however, because even when Hyunjoon smiled to himself in the mirror, he couldn’t find an ounce of happiness in his chest.
Even though he was bad at it, looking back Hyunjoon could confidently label his feelings that week as guilt. And following it, a mountain of shame. Hyunjoon was as familiar with shame as he was with breathing, and he’d been terrified of it— terrified of feeling it when he stared into his mother’s eyes, terrified of feeling it when he walked into a room full of people.
But it was confusing, Hyunjoon thought, because shame was only supposed to come when there were people around.
There wasn’t anyone there but himself, and yet Hyunjoon still felt ashamed.
Finally, late evening on a Sunday, Hyunjoon found himself staring at a text Wooje had sent five minutes ago.
Woojeng: meet me by our spot at the river
Woojeng: please
He’d sent a few more texts before that, which Hyunjoon had read throughout the week, but all of them had been along the lines of if he was feeling well, or sleeping well, or eating well—which Hyunjoon could confidently answer “no” to all of the above.
He stared at the message.
He stared at Wooje’s profile picture, which he’d set as a close-up of Psyduck.
And finally, he rolled out of bed and stumbled out the door.
It was late November, and a damn cold one at that. The sky was entirely gray, yet the day still felt clear—the crisp, cool air filling Hyunjoon’s nose and stinging his lungs. He walked until he arrived at their meeting spot on the river bank, the one covered in rocks right off the main path. Wooje hadn’t needed to specify anything other than “our spot”.
Hyunjoon hesitated. Wooje hadn’t arrived yet-- or was he not coming? He pulled his phone out to check if he’d texted anything, and—
“Hyunjoon!”
Hyunjoon whipped around and spotted Wooje running towards him.
Maybe kissing someone altered your brain chemistry, because even though Wooje looked the exact same as he always had, Hyunjoon felt like there was something different.
Wooje looked brilliant against the dead, grey background of late fall—bright eyes and pale skin, cheeks ever-so-slightly flushed from running. His breath fogged up the air, puffs of white clouds that kind of resembled smoking, except Hyunjoon knew Wooje didn’t smoke and never would.
Hyunjoon paused. He could feel his heart clench up.
“I thought you wouldn’t come,” Wooje gasped, stopping right in front of him. “You basically fell off the face of the planet for a week, dude. I was about to file a missing persons report.”
“You’re overreacting,” Hyunjoon replied evenly. “I was just in the dorms.”
“And you didn’t come out once? Touch grass, for fuck’s sake.”
“I’m touching it now, aren’t I?”
“It’s all dead this time of year. Do it more often.”
“Says the guy who’s only jogged twice in his whole life.”
“Be quiet.”
“No, you.”
There was a brief moment of silence, as if Wooje was hesitating. Then,
“Hey, Hyunjoon, can I tell you something?”
Hyunjoon blinked.
“Uh, sure.”
Suddenly, Wooje grabbed his hand and began pulling him farther down the river bank, up to the sidewalk and down the park walkway until they reached a small stand selling those fish-shaped breads filled with red-bean paste.
“I thought you wanted to tell me something—?” Hyunjoon began.
“I’m hungry. Let’s eat first.”
And so, Hyunjoon walked up to the stand with Wooje. Moments later, the two sat side-by-side on a park bench, eating steaming-hot bungeoppang as their breaths fogged up the air, cheeks rosy and noses running.
Hyunjoon looked at the surrounding scenery. There were hardly any people around, and the grass was all dead—but each tree’s foliage was vibrant-red, the colors of a fire, or flaming sunset. It fit perfectly, in a way, how the hues popped against the ugly brown of the bark.
“Mhmph mmhph,” Wooje mumbled.
“Chew, dumbass.”
Wooje swallowed.
“Are you done eating that?”
Hyunjoon looked down at his half-eaten bread.
“Maybe—”
Before Hyunjoon could react, Wooje leaned over and took a bite out of his bread, which he was still holding in his hand. Hyunjoon’s eyes widened.
“Hey!” he yelped, moving away.
“You weren’t gonna eat it anyways,” Wooje replied, grinning. He cheeks puffed up as he chewed.
“Nuh-uh. How would you know?”
“You never finish your food. That’s why you have me.”
Hyunjoon snorted.
“What are you, a walking trash compactor? If you’re still hungry, I can just buy you another one, y’know—”
But Wooje had already stood up and was walking down the path again. Without hesitation, Hyunjoon hurried after him.
The two walked together for a while, watching children and couples wandering between the trees, as the leaves fluttered to the ground, brilliant red and orange fresh off the stem. Fall had always seemed like an ugly, gray precursor to Hyunjoon’s favorite season, but he’d developed a newfound appreciation for its colors.
Wooje was quiet beside him. Hyunjoon stared at his face, noticing the crumbs of bread on the corner of his mouth. Without thinking, Hyunjoon leaned over and brushed them off with his thumb.
Eyes widening, Wooje stared at him for a brief second.
“You’ve got food on your face, you slob,” Hyunjoon replied. “Eat slower next time.”
Wooje broke into a grin.
“You could’ve just told me, y’know.”
“You can’t even point to your nose if I asked you. It’s easier this way.”
Something seemed to catch Wooje’s attention at that moment. Grabbing Hyunjoon’s hand, he began pulling Hyunjoon towards a booth near the riverside.
“Let’s rent a bike!”
And so, Hyunjoon found himself on top of a bike while Wooje sat behind him, arms wrapped around his waist. He was warm, and Hyunjoon felt his face heat up. They pedaled along a path running along the river, framed by trees which sent leaves fluttering through the wind. A scenic route, the person at the booth had told them.
“You’re heavy,” Hyunjoon groaned. While Wooje wasn’t light by any means, Hyunjoon mainly just wanted to complain.
“Am not,” Wooje murmured into his back.
“Are too.”
“Should I lose some weight?”
“You don’t need to.”
“You’re right,” Wooje giggled. “It’s ‘cause I have marshmallow face, right?”
Hyunjoon paused. The wind was cool and fresh, running through his hair, stinging his face and making his eyes water.
“You still remember that?”
“Duh. I was so mad when you first said it.”
“Hey! I should’ve been madder—you called me a peanut head, remember?”
“You kinda still are…”
“Woojeng, you’re forgetting who’s pedaling this bike right now.”
“Sorry,” Wooje giggled, squeezing Hyunjoon tighter. “I forgot you’re sensitive.”
Groaning, Hyunjoon pedaled on, flying past the burning-red foliage, past the dark water and far away cityscape on the other side of the river. The two rode for a while, until Wooje suddenly pointed to something.
“Wait, stop here.”
Hopping off the bike, Wooje dashed over to the riverside along a sandy bank. He squatted down, crossing his arms over his knees, and stared across the water at something.
“There’s ducks here!” he called over his shoulder.
Hyunjoon watched as a flock of fowl with shiny green heads and brown feathers waded around the river bank. Slowly, he walked over to where Wooje was crouched and stood behind him.
“They’re just ducks, y’know,” Hyunjoon murmured.
“You don’t see them this late in the fall, though,” Wooje replied. Hyunjoon stared at the side of his face—flushed and round.
“These guys are called Mallard ducks, I think,” Wooje continued. “They’re the ones you see all the time in the wild. I like them the best. They’re so pretty.”
“What about the white and yellow ones?” Hyunjoon asked. “Those are cute too.”
Wooje wrinkled his nose.
“Those are called White Pekins. They’re not natural—people bred them for meat a long time ago. They’ve got a lot of issues, too.”
“Ah, I see.”
Wooje stuck his hand out as one of the ducks grew nearer.
“What kind of duck do you think Psyduck would be?” Hyunjoon asked.
“Well, he definitely wouldn’t be one of these guys, since he’s so yellow…”
Wooje began rambling about Pokemon, and Hyunjoon grinned. It was picturesque, how Wooje was crouched by the water, watching ducks with wide, bright eyes as tall grass swayed behind him. Hyunjoon instinctively reached for his phone.
“...and like, Pekin ducks are yellow when they’re babies, and Psyduck is yellow. Plus, he’s always got a headache, and Pekins have so many health issues, so—-hey!”
Wooje broke into a smile as Hyunjoon’s phone-camera flashed. He stood up and began walking towards Hyunjoon.
“Did you just take a picture of me?”
“Nope…”
“Lemme see! You totally just did!”
Hyunjoon’s face went red as Wooje jumped all over him, peering over his shoulder to look at his phone.
“It’s nothing, seriously,” Hyunjoon mumbled. “You just looked good then.”
“Really?” Wooje grinned.
“Don’t get your hopes up. The ducks were just cute, alright?”
“Sure…” Wooje replied teasingly. He hesitated for a moment, as if making up his mind about something.
Then, without warning, he grabbed Hyunjoon’s hand and began pulling him father down the riverbank, deeper into the tall grass and surrounding trees. Hyunjoon nearly tripped, but caught his balance at the last moment. Wooje was moving fast, almost nervously.
“Hey!” Hyunjoon yelped. “Slow down, dude! You’re gonna make me fall into the water.”
Wooje didn’t respond. Instead, he kept pulling Hyunjoon further and further, until all that remained around them were grass, trees, and the shimmering water of the Han river.
Hyunjoon stopped to catch his breath, crouching over as his lungs burned and face stung. He glanced up at Wooje and noticed how pink his cheeks were, how his eyes were glued to the ground.
“Damn,” Hyunjoon wheezed, smiling. “You move faster than I thought. Something got you nervous?”
Wooje didn’t respond for a moment. Then,
“You know how I said I wanted to tell you something?”
“Yeah?”
“Well…”
Wooje stood in front of him. Hyunjoon would never forget the look in his eyes as he stared at him, would never forget even as his memory decayed and the years went by.
Wooje’s eyes were bright—brighter than anyone else’s, and Hyunjoon sometimes thought surely there must’ve been stars in those pupils, that they must’ve been fish bowls for the universe to pour all their glittering cosmos into.
His face, that look, those eyes, were all seared into Hyunjoon’s mind, seared into him more than the cold air did.
Finally, Wooje spoke.
“I’ve wanted to tell you this for a while, but I was too scared up until now. You’re special to me, Hyunjoon. I want to spend more time with you like today. I want to hold hands. I liked it when you kissed me.”
Wooje’s lips moved, and all Hyunjoon could do was stare.
“I love you.”
I love you, I love you, I love you. Those words hit Hyunjoon like a bullet to the chest, tearing through his flesh and shattering his ribcage.
Those sacred words, those burning, electrifying words, those words which bloomed like a rose, which bloomed like a fire did against the night sky.
The world stopped spinning, the heavens went silent, and Hyunjoon was left staring at those words.
He should’ve leaned in and kissed him right there.
But instead, Hyunjoon flinched.
He flinched, and it was a visceral, instinctive reaction, like how rabbits ran and deer fled when they heard a noise. He flinched, and all the stars came crashing down on him.
“I’m…” Hyunjoon began.
He looked at the ground.
“I’m not gay, Wooje.”
Once, in biology class, Hyunjoon had learnt about conditioning. The teacher had told them that if you beat a dog every time it started salivating at the sight of food, the dog would eventually stop, no matter how hungry it was or how much it wanted it.
His teacher had then told them, with a proud smile, that humans and animals were different that way. That it no matter how much you conditioned a human to do something, the moment when they were presented with a choice, they always, always had free will. That their bodies were under their control
Hyunjoon figured he must be an animal.
“I-I don’t want being gay to be my identity, Wooje. I like my identity. I don’t want to be the gay son, or the gay co-worker. I don’t want to be the ‘other’. I just…I just want to be me.”
There was no way to stop the words from coming out of his mouth.
“I…I can’t. I just can’t.”
Hyunjoon looked up.
Wooje was staring at him with a look of horror on his face. He was staring as if Hyunjoon were an animal—a hulking, beastly monstrosity that had taken the place of Hyunjoon and had torn right through the person he thought Hyunjoon had been, had torn right through the soft, vulnerable heart he’d presented to him.
It was only for a split second. Hyunjoon had barely caught a glimpse of those eyes. But even now, carved into his mind with a white-hot knife, Hyunjoon remembered the way his heart had clenched, then ached, before exploding with agony.
Wooje was staring at Hyunjoon like he was scared. So, so, so scared.
Hyunjoon froze in place.
Wooje turned and ran.
When Hyunjoon got the news that Wooje hadn’t re-signed, he’d been busy throwing up in the bathroom.
After that day by the river, Wooje had ghosted him. He left the dorms the very next day, took all his stuff from the practice rooms, and disappeared without a trace. No matter how many people Hyunjoon asked, none of them knew where he’d gone—some said to visit family, some said on vacation, some said to the military.
Hyunjoon didn’t text him. He didn’t call, or chat him on League, or even send a fucking email.
Why?
Hyunjoon didn’t know.
The most devastating realization of Hyunjoon’s life was that he lost the one thing he wanted in life because he was scared , because he was a pussy, because he was a sad excuse of a boy who tried so hard to be “manly”---and there was no one to blame but himself.
That regret would haunt him forever.
There wasn’t any way to cope when it was all your fault, Hyunjoon quickly came to realize.
The loneliness returned first. It ate away at him, tore into the soft flesh of his stomach and made him feel sick every time he tried to eat. He’d remember the look on Wooje’s face, the way the light had disappeared from his eyes like being swallowed by a void. He’d think of how he probably hurt him, how he must’ve driven a stake into his chest as his lips moved.
Loneliness compounded over time. As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into a month, Hyunjoon could feel himself slipping away, like a soft, warm part of him was now turning to stone.
He was living a hell in small rooms. He broke things, smashed things, kicked through glass on the dark alleyways behind bars. He was in and out of consciousness, in and out of his mind.
But as he went on with his rotting and agonizing, as the days blurred together as he laid in bed, through his passage through any number of sleep medications, it gradually began to occur to him that he wasn’t different, wasn’t special.
There wasn’t any excuse. He was a coward.
He’d cared more about the opinions of strangers, of people who couldn’t give less of a shit about him, than his own best friend. He cared more about what society thought of him than Wooje.
Hyunjoon was scared of the word “love”. He was scared of the word “boyfriend”.
He was deathly, deathly scared of the word “gay.”
Hyunjoon didn’t know when the seeds of hate first began growing inside him. He’d heard the same things over and over since childhood—-that being gay was unnatural, that liking men meant you were effeminate, creepy, “uncool”, a “bitch”, a “faggot”, all the gross, stomach-turning things people plastered on to justify treating you like shit.
Hyunjoon didn’t want to be gay, but he also didn’t want to lose Wooje.
Wooje wasn’t “unnatural”. He wasn’t effeminate, wasn’t creepy, wasn’t anything everyone said being gay was. It didn’t make sense how he loved Hyunjoon, a man, fitting the very definition of being gay—yet didn’t fit the other things that came with it.
Hyunjoon wanted to say he loved Wooje, wanted to slap a label on the feelings he’d had for the last five years—but it was harder than that. It was scary.
Later, Hyunjoon had read about something called “internalized homophobia”, how people hated themselves for having “gay thoughts”. But Hyunjoon hadn’t even made the connection—had been so scared that he simply pushed the word “gay” out of his mind as soon as it entered. And subsequently, for the past five years, the glances, the smiles, the touches and kisses didn’t mean “gay”. It was just love.
Sometimes, when Hyunjoon had too much time on his hands, he wondered about what might have happened if he said yes. What if he’d suddenly become human and pulled Wooje into a kiss?
Would they have held hands? Dated? Had sex?
It felt weird and out of place, completely alien from his experience with girls. It didn’t feel right, but it didn’t feel wrong, either. Maybe it was just unfamiliar—strange, uncharted territory.
But even if he had said yes, deep down Hyunjoon knew it couldn’t have been as easy as that.
Hyunjoon was too scared to love Wooje with all the hate he’d let grow inside him.
When he’d heard about the news, Hyunjoon had just finished eating a package Minseok had dropped off at their dorm. Minseok was leaving that day like everyone else had, to go home and see family. He’d texted Hyunjoon, knowing that he wouldn’t show up at the door.
Minseok: I brought u food. I’m leaving today, so make sure you invite someone over so you’re not alone all break, k? finish your food, and don’t jump out a window
The rest of the team had no idea what had happened, only that Wooje had disappeared and Hyunjoon was now a shut-in.
Hyunjoon: thanks
The universe had played another stupid joke on him, however, because when he opened the bag, he was met with a box of red-bean filled, fish-shaped bread. He’d been having trouble keeping food down, possibly due to the combination of medication and nausea, and the sickly-sweet bread didn’t help much, either.
Lying down after finishing the food, Hyunjoon suddenly felt like throwing up. He went and retched, as he’d been doing for the past few weeks, when his phone started ringing from the other room.
Rinsing his mouth out, Hyunjoon sprinted over to his bed and grabbed his phone. His hopes fell as soon as he saw the caller ID.
“Hey,” Minhyung’s voice crackled over the phone.
“Hey.”
“What’s wrong? You sound terrible.”
“No I don’t. Why’d you call?”
“Well…”
Minhyung paused, before letting out a long sigh.
“I think you need to check Twitter. That’s all.”
Hyunjoon was completely numb as he hung up, clicking on the app with shaky hands.
There it was.
Thank you, Zeus.
Now, in the present day, Hyunjoon wishes he could say things have gotten better.
He wishes he’d stopped hurting, missing, wanting—he even wishes, sometimes, that he’d eventually end up hating Wooje.
He doesn’t, unfortunately.
They have a new toplaner now. He’s older, straight from HLE, where Wooje had gone, and he’s all smiles.
Hyunjoon doesn’t have an excuse to not remember his name, because they’re both fucking “Hyunjoon.”
The universe is funny like that.
Hyunjoon hadn’t ended up hating Wooje, because like most things, it was all his fault. He’d been the asshole who rejected him, and all Wooje was doing was simply putting the past behind them. Nothing confused Hyunjoon as to why he left.
Which only really made it hurt more, in the end. Wooje left, and Hyunjoon was left behind.
Wooje had gone to the military after signing the contract. When Hyunjoon heard the news, the first thing he’d thought of was how they’d promised to go together once upon a time. He’d called himself stupid right afterwards, and scrubbed the thought out of his mind. There were already enough promises they’d broken, after all.
He tried to forget and move on.
Right before Wooje left and after he’d returned, however, Hyunjoon’s feed was flooded with HLE posts—-Wooje in HLE uniform, Wooje filming HLE content, fan events, “welcome” videos and whatnot.
Wooje’s smiling in some of the videos. He’s got an arm around Wangho’s shoulder, is chatting with Geonwoo and gets teased by Hwanjoong. His eyes are brighter than ever.
Hyunjoon used to think he was the leaver, until he found out how desperately he clung onto people that had long passed. He used to think that as soon as someone withdrew, he’d be gone within seconds, but months later he still hangs on to what once was.
Even now, as he’s lying in bed searching his YouTube For You page for something to watch, he sees another video of HLE Wooje.
Clicking the three little buttons at the top of the video, Hyunjoon selects “Don’t Recommend” and watches it poof out of existence.
It’s mortifying to be the one that remembers, after all.
He’s scrolling through Instagram, lazily liking a few cat posts here and there, when he checks the date.
It’s January 3rd, one week before the Season opening, "Noxus" something or the other.
He clicks the T1 channel and searches for the 2022 roster announcement video.
January 11th.
They’d filmed it right after they’d been informed of the decisions, shipping it off to the editing team in record time, which meant—-
Hyunjoon remembered now. Technically, today was their debut anniversary.
He clicks open his messages with Wooje.
Last message: Read one month and 23 days ago.
It’s the one where Wooje had asked him to meet by the Han River. Hyunjoon had probably opened and closed their messages hundreds of times up until now, but it’s only this very moment where Hyunjoon finally knows what to say. He begins typing.
Hyunjoon: happy debut anniversary
Hyunjoon’s heart is racing as he types, deletes, then types again, and it only speeds up as he clicks “send.”
Suddenly, not even seconds later, his phone pings.
Hyunjoon nearly falls out of bed.
Woojeng: thanks
Hyunjoon stares at those words for a long, long time.
Hyunjoon: I know it’s sudden, but I forgot to say sorry.
He pauses.
Hyunjoon: I’m sorry, woojeng. I never wanted to hurt you
Wooje takes a long time to respond, long enough that Hyunjoon’s ready to swipe out the tab and defy Minseok’s advice by throwing himself out a fucking window, when suddenly—
Woojeng: It’s okay. I forgive you
For some reason, those words hurt more than if Wooje had told him to go fuck himself.
Woojeng: I realize I probably made you uncomfortable saying what I did. I made a mistake. I’m sorry.
Woojeng: the preseason starts in a week. let’s leave the past behind and compete well, okay?
There’s a lump forming in Hyunjoon’s throat, and it’s hurting and hurting—
Woojeng: I don’t regret what we did. We all make mistakes. But i guess we just have to learn from them sometimes.
Woojeng: thank you for being there for me.
“Thank you for being there for me” was something you said to your boss, to your teacher in a half-hearted, low effort card you wrote to them for Christmas.
Hyunjoon: thank you
The lump is now turning into a boulder, stopping his airways, choking his eyes so that they sting and sting—-
Woojeng: I have to go now
Woojeng: bye
“Bye,” Hyunjoon whispers. He doesn’t notice the tears on his face, doesn’t notice anything except those blurry words on his screen.
He lets the tears fall.
“Bye, Woojeng.”