Chapter Text
Minho ends his first run through of his routine with a flashy pose, panting as the music comes to a close. His coach, Junho, claps from behind the barrier.
Junho has been Minho's coach since he moved to Korea at 7. His dad had gotten a new job offer and — with some convincing — his family packed up their life from Japan and moved straight into the heart of Seoul. Minho's only request was that he could continue figure skating with the promise to keep up his grades and his parents agreed. He entered his first competition at 10 and won gold — he’s only gotten below that a handful of times and none of those instances were in the past five years. He’s only lost a regional or sectional competition once when he was 16 and he never will again.
Minho didn't acknowledge his praises as he steps off the ice and takes a large swig of his water bottle. He was used to it, after all. Minho has never received criticism from Junho, he was always perfect. His form, his song choice, his choreo — never a mistake, never a poor performance, and certainly never something he could do badly. He was the perfect skater.
So when Junho compliments his technique, he doesn't feel accomplished or even happy. It's what he does and he'd be damned if he didn't do it well — no, if he didn't do it perfectly . He put in the work every day to make sure there were no flaws and removed all distractions from his life, only focusing on one thing. Every turn, every jump, every move was a calculated step towards his end goal.
First place.
"You're going to smash the competition!" Junho smiles, nudging Minho's shoulder. Junho seemed more excited than Minho was — which wasn’t new, Junho was always happy when Minho brought back another trophy or medal that he can boast about on the rinks website. It definitely attracted new skaters (and more money) but Minho couldn’t care less about that. It was just a medal to him.
"When have you ever known me not to?" Minho replies nonchalantly. "I'm unbeatable."
Junho chuckles. "An ego of that size is very fragile, you know." It's a warning that Minho just shrugs off, not thinking twice about what those words truly mean. His ego was made out of the toughest steel — it would take the hottest fire to melt that away.
No fire like that exists in his world. Everyone he met was the same cookie cutout; they all smiled with just their lips when you greeted them, their eyes observing and cold as they tried to find a weakness to crush you with. They would shake your hand tightly and say how happy or delighted they are to meet you but Minho knew better than that. He knew it was a facade, albeit a very transparent one. Minho could see through them all. No one was friendly just because they wanted to, there was always an ulterior motive.
Minho sinks down onto the bench beside him and starts unlacing his skates. "Same time tomorrow?" He asks as he carefully places his skates into their bag. He treated his skates with the utmost of care, they were his winning ticket after all.
The first time he broke a skate was during a season when he was a teenager and he was horrified. The woman behind the desk told him it was because he didn’t take care of them well enough and his parents had to gather enough money for a new pair; when he got home, he spent hours researching skate care and stuck to a strict routine with it since.
"Of course, Minho." Junho pats Minho's shoulder before leaving the room. Minho heads to the locker room to get changed.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Minho walks into his apartment, the sound of laughter already assaulting his ear s. Of course they were here, he thought, why would they meet anywhere else? He hangs his bag up beside his coat before placing his shoes neatly on the rack. He takes a deep breath before entering his living room.
"Minho!" Hyunjin beams from his spot on the couch.
Hyunjin; he was one of Minho's closest friends (not his choice, believe me.) He was loud, needy, and made himself at home in Minho's house every chance he got since he was given his own key. Originally, Minho had made Hyunjin a key to check on his cats while he was away but he had definitely taken that as an invitation to come over whenever he pleases more and more often. Now, it's commonplace to find Hyunjin in that same spot on the couch when he comes home from practice, snacking on whatever food he had found in the cupboard with some trashy TV on.
Minho did love him, though. They met at a Dior event — it was one of Minho's first ever brand deals as a new figure skater in the professional leagues — when Minho was full of anxiety, standing by the snack table unsure of what to do or how to talk to anyone. Hyunjin was nervous too, it was clear in the way his hand trembled when he grabbed a handful of chips, but he smiled at Minho with such a confidence that made him forget all about the trembling hand or the way he shifted his weight every few seconds. Talking with Hyunjin was easy, mostly because Minho didn't have to really say anything as once Hyunjin started, he didn't stop. All Minho did was smile and nod, occasionally adding a quick yeah or wow .
They've been inseparable ever since.
"How was practice?" Chan asks as he takes a handful of popcorn from the bowl on Hyunjin's lap.
Chan; another close friend of Minho's. Chan was sweet, thoughtful, but quite pushy with his affection. They've been friends for the longest and it was clear that Chan may be Minho's favorite (yet he will deny that accusation until his final breath.) They met in middle school during their first music class when their teacher paired them together; Minho, the quiet kid with Chan, the loud and popular kid. The teacher said it was to 'make sure Chan behaved' like Minho was just his babysitter.
Chan would talk a lot and Minho would ignore him, head buried in his book as he took every note humanly possible. They didn't get close until their first assignment together — music was not something Minho cared about, he didn't want to make it, he wanted to dance and perform to it. Chan helped them get the highest grade in their class and Minho in return helped him with his drama homework. Their friendship was purely contractual at first, helping each other with the classes they struggled with and not speaking outside of that.
When they picked high schools, they chose the same one. Over the summer, they got closer and could even be considered friends. Minho remembers the day Chan's music started to get popular online during 11th grade and he was the first one to congratulate him, excited for his future prospects as a producer. They kept in contact as they went their separate ways after graduation, continuing to support each other in their respective careers.
"We're watching Mamma Mia, come sit." Seungmin patted the seat between him and Chan which Minho took with a sigh.
Seungmin; now Minho couldn't tell you exactly how they're friends, he just knows that he's been unable to get rid of him since the day they met at one of Chan's parties. Seungmin was actually one of Chan's friends first; Minho isn't sure how or when they met but he assumes it's a ‘secret work thing’. Seungmin and Minho bicker all the time but, deep down, they love each other a lot.
Seungmin isn't famous like the rest of this friend group — which is by choice, he is more than talented enough to be a musician — yet he's somehow the most high maintenance. Minho had thought no one could be needier than Hyunjin — he was wrong. Seungmin was the youngest, which meant the others would dote on him a lot more than they did each other.
Minho leans back against the couch with a sigh. "I'm exhausted." He stretches out his legs, a dull ache in his calves reminding him of how hard he's worked today. He was really looking forward to a nice, hot shower when he (eventually) gets the house to himself again. Until then, though, he'd just have to suck it up. Hyunjin shoves a piece of popcorn into Minho’s mouth and turns his attention back to the TV.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Minho strolls into the rink at his designated time — 2pm, on the dot. He spots an unfamiliar face talking to his coach, yes, his coach. Minho didn't like to share what he claimed was his, especially not with a nobody. The guy was a little bit shorter than himself, his hair was messy and he was wearing a simple hoodie and cargo pants. From behind, he couldn't see the stranger's face but Junho was grinning and nodding at everything the man said.
Minho thought it was odd.
Junho's last client was at 12:30pm then he would go for a lunch break before returning to the rink for Minho's appointment at 2. He has never had another person with him when he arrives. Sometimes he still had his lunch with him but never a person .
Once Junho notices Minho’s presence, he smiles and beckons him over. "Minho! Right on time." He presses his hands together with a warm expression as Minho cautiously approaches the two. "This is Han Jisung, a new skater at the rink. I'll be coaching him in the slot after yours."
The mystery man doesn't turn around until Minho is right beside him and he flashes a nervous smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He offers a hand but Minho just stares at him with a scowl. Fake pleasantries always irritated him.
Minho didn't like people in his territory, especially someone new and right before the new competition season began. Minho looks him up and down obviously; unbranded and very worn hoodie which was clear by the faded pattern on the front, tacky cargo pants, and his glasses frames were way too big for his face. His hair was a dark copper, long and unstyled but framed his face well. His anxiety was clear all over him; his eyes avoided looking directly into Minho's, his teeth dragged over his bottom lip and his hands rubbed over the hem of his hoodie.
"I was hoping you'd mentor him a little, y'know, to show him how things work around here." Junho nudges Minho in hopes of him breaking his glare but it only intensifies it more. Show him how things work? How is that my problem? Minho could’ve laughed.
"I don't waste my time with newbies." Minho finally tears his eyes away and moves towards the bench, unbagging his skates. He takes a seat and kicks off his shoes, slipping the skates on.
Jisung rolls his eyes, his demeanor shifting to one of annoyance rather than nervousness. "Actually, I'm a pretty good skater. I'm just new to the area, not the sport." He states matter-of-factly like Minho was supposed to care.
"Good skater..." Minho glances over his shoulder and scoffs. "If good is all you are then it is a waste of my time." Minho tightly pulls on his laces, making sure his skates are securely in place.
"How can you judge my abilities if you've never even seen me skate?" Jisung bites and crosses his arms over his chest.
"If I haven't heard of you, you're not good enough to be seen." Minho finishes tying his skates and steps towards the ice. "Don't waste my time again." He steps onto the ice and starts his warm ups, completely blocking out Jisung's existence.
Junho notices Jisung's hurt expression and rests a hand on his shoulder. "Don't listen to him, he's not good with people."
"Clearly." Jisung mutters under his breath. His eyes drift over to Minho on the ice, observing the way his body moves.
"Look, I should join him on the ice but your first class is tomorrow at 4pm." Junho reminds Jisung with a warm smile as he takes a step towards the ice. "See you tomorrow."
Jisung tears his eyes away and nods. "Yeah. See you tomorrow."