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Losing a match always hurts, no matter how close it was or how minor the mistakes that led to defeat. The pain lingers all the same: a bitter stab that settles in the chest and is hard to ignore. For Sanghyeok, this season had been especially tough. The losses had piled up, and the atmosphere was no longer the same; the team’s spirits were worn thin, smiles had grown more forced, and hopes, increasingly fragile.
But this time was different.
This time, Sanghyeok wasn’t sure if they could truly recover. He wasn’t sure if they still had what it took to pull themselves together.
He let out a long sigh as he waited for the elevator. They had just lost a match that, in theory, should have been easy — one they should’ve won without much trouble. Yet things had gone downhill quickly, and before they knew it, they were already mourning another defeat.
The loss weighed on everything: his body, his mind, his heart.
With a tired gesture, Sanghyeok brought both hands to his temples, pressing them lightly as if trying to squeeze out the exhaustion or frustration.
He had to pull himself together.
He had to be stronger.
He had been part of this world for over a decade; he knew better than anyone how cruel it could be sometimes. And even so, he had learned that giving up was never an option.
A soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Hi hyung," Jihoon greeted beside him.
Sanghyeok hadn’t heard him approach.
He blinked, as if coming back to himself, and turned his head slightly toward him.
"Oh, hey," he replied, forcing a small smile and trying to sound friendly. "I didn’t hear you come."
Jihoon glanced at him sideways, quietly sizing him up. There was no need to say anything: he had seen the match, and he knew exactly how Sanghyeok must be feeling right now.
"How are you?" he asked, careful to keep his voice neither too casual nor too pressing.
The simple question seemed to tense Sanghyeok even more, but he still didn’t move when Jihoon took a step closer, almost unconsciously closing the distance between them.
The elevator finally arrived.
Jihoon waited a second, letting Sanghyeok step in first before following him.
Inside, silence settled between them — heavy, but not uncomfortable.
Sanghyeok leaned back against one of the metal walls, letting out another sigh that barely stirred the air. Jihoon leaned against the opposite side, his shoulders slightly tilted forward, like he was trying to offer his presence as a quiet shield.
Sanghyeok could feel Jihoon’s gaze fixed on him.
With some effort, he lifted his head and met Jihoon’s steady eyes.
"I’m..." he started, but his voice came out rougher than he intended. "I’m just tired... and frustrated."
He was being honest. There was no point in pretending around Jihoon.
Not with someone who clearly already knew anyway.
"Today I felt like... no matter how much I want to fix things, it’s just not enough," he added, lowering his gaze a little, like admitting it out loud was harder than it should be.
Jihoon didn’t respond right away. He didn’t push, either. He just stayed there, in front of him, holding the moment with a quiet patience that Sanghyeok appreciated more than he could ever say.
The elevator kept climbing, but in that small space between them, time seemed to have stopped.
Finally, Sanghyeok let out a dry, breathless laugh.
"I must sound so dramatic," he muttered, shaking his head.
"It doesn’t sound dramatic," Jihoon replied softly.
"I know it’s not a big deal," Sanghyeok mumbled, a slight frown pulling at his brows.
A thick knot had formed in his throat so quickly it caught him off guard.
He swallowed, trying to clear it, but his voice still faltered.
"I know..." he tried to go on, clearing his throat weakly when the words broke halfway out.
Before he could say anything else, he felt Jihoon move.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw him reach for the elevator’s button panel and press the emergency stop. The elevator jolted gently to a halt.
Sanghyeok opened his mouth to ask what was going on, confused, but no words came out. Jihoon was already moving closer, closing the space between them until he was standing right in front of him.
Instinctively, Sanghyeok lifted his gaze.
And there they were again.
Those eyes.
So kind. So full of soft, unconditional patience that it almost hurt, so different from the harshness he kept turning on himself.
Slowly, giving him room to pull away if he wanted, Jihoon reached out his hand.
Sanghyeok felt his fingers brush against his first, then quietly latch on in a silent gesture. He didn’t pull back; he let his fingers clumsily intertwine with Jihoon’s.
Jihoon gave him a small, almost invisible smile, full of calm. And then, with the same patient tenderness, he lifted his other hand to Sanghyeok’s face.
The tips of his fingers brushed his cheek with a gentleness that made Sanghyeok close his eyes for a second.
They stayed like that for a few moments, until Jihoon, still holding onto him, spoke softly: "You don't have to hold it all in," he said, his voice low but steady. "I know it feels like too much right now. Like every loss hits harder than the last. But... you're not just the guy who wins. You never were."
Sanghyeok opened his eyes and met Jihoon's gaze — so warm it completely broke through his defenses.
"You're the one who kept going when everyone else said you were done. The one who took all the looks, all the criticism, all the losses — and not 'cause you were invincible," Jihoon added with a small, tender smile, "but because you knew how to get back up every time."
He squeezed Sanghyeok's hand a little tighter. Jihoon kept his eyes on him — on those pretty eyes that were supposed to be full of nothing but happiness and calm, but now looked tired.
"It's not just because you're Faker," Jihoon went on. "It's because you're you, Sanghyeok. The person who never stopped trying. The one who, even when he loses, still shows everyone what it means to fight with everything you’ve got till the end."
Sanghyeok felt the weight of his words settle deep inside him, and almost without realizing it, he leaned in closer, letting their foreheads touch, their noses brushing in the softest way — he just wanted to feel Jihoon a little closer. And Jihoon let him.
"Sometimes..." Sanghyeok started, his voice barely above a whisper, "I feel like I don't even know if I've still got enough left. To keep trying."
There was no anger in his voice. No desperation. Just a quiet, tired kind of sadness that didn’t bother hiding anymore.
"I don't wanna give up. But sometimes I'm scared that... that it won't be enough," he finished, pulling back a little to look him in the eyes.
He said it simply, without breaking, without fighting against his own pain.
He just let it out, like trapped air he needed to release.
"You're enough," Jihoon said, with a calm conviction that didn’t sound like an empty comfort.
Sanghyeok didn’t answer immediately. He stayed still, eyes locked on Jihoon.
"Do you really believe that?" Sanghyeok asked.
Jihoon smiled, softer this time, a look that spoke more than words ever could.
"I do," Jihoon said firmly. "I know it because I know you. Because you're the kind of person who doesn’t stop, even when everything feels lost."
Sanghyeok swallowed hard.
Maybe he didn’t have all the answers, but Jihoon's words made him feel a little less alone right then.
"I don't always feel that way, y'know?" Sanghyeok said, almost in a whisper. "Sometimes it feels like I just don't know how to keep going..."
His gaze dropped, and for a moment, silence filled the space between them.
"I get it," Jihoon said quietly, his voice carrying a deep, honest understanding. "But if anyone's got what it takes to keep going... it's you."
Sanghyeok lifted his gaze, finding in Jihoon’s eyes something that, for some reason, made him feel at peace.
It wasn’t just empty comfort — it was real.
The words hadn’t been just an attempt to cheer him up; Jihoon truly saw him that way. And that made Sanghyeok’s chest loosen a little, the heavy weight of doubt easing just enough.
For a moment, there were no expectations. Just the quiet relief of being with someone who truly understood him.
Jihoon allowed the quiet to settle between them for a moment, taking his time, just feeling how close they were.
He could feel it — how Sanghyeok seemed a little calmer now, less tense. And honestly, so was he.
"You don’t have to prove anything else, hyung," Jihoon said quietly, a soft smile tugging at his lips, one that made his feelings clear.
"Just keep being you. The rest'll come."
Sanghyeok didn’t say anything right away.
A small breath escaped him, like he was letting go of all the frustration he'd been carrying.
"Thank you," Sanghyeok murmured, his voice barely there, but full of sincerity.
"You don’t have to thank me," Jihoon answered, his face close, his eyes shining with a tenderness he couldn't quite hide. "I’m always gonna be here, hyung. No matter what."
And then — almost inevitably — it happened.
Jihoon slowly let go of Sanghyeok’s hand just to slide his arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug — firm but careful, as if he was afraid of holding too tightly. Sanghyeok didn’t hesitate. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into the curve of Jihoon’s neck, wrapping his arms around him — awkwardly at first, then tighter, like he could finally breathe properly in that embrace.
He could feel the steady heartbeat against his chest, the gentle warmth of Jihoon’s hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back.
Jihoon closed his eyes, clinging back just as fiercely, like he wanted to be everything Sanghyeok needed to keep from falling apart.
"I’m right here," Jihoon whispered, his breath a soft brush against Sanghyeok’s ear.
Sanghyeok nodded against his neck, saying nothing, letting the world shrink down to just this: the two of them, breathing together, holding onto each other, needing nothing else at all.
"Do you have plans for tonight?" Jihoon asked softly a few seconds later, keeping him close, his hands firm on Sanghyeok’s back.
Sanghyeok shook his head slightly, a small movement against him, his forehead still resting on Jihoon’s shoulder.
Jihoon gave a small, nervous smile, and after a few seconds, he pulled back just enough to see him properly. His hands didn’t let go; they stayed gripping the fabric of Sanghyeok’s jacket, like he wasn’t ready to lose that connection.
Under the soft elevator light, Sanghyeok’s eyes seemed to shine — calmer now, no longer weighed down like before.
"Do you wanna come over to my place...?" Jihoon said, his voice a little tighter, a shy note slipping through he couldn’t quite hide. "So... I can take better care of you."
The moment the words left him, Jihoon felt the heat rush to his ears. He looked away for a second, almost regretting how much he’d let slip.
Sanghyeok let out a low, involuntary chuckle, tilting his head with a look somewhere between amused and touched.
"Take care of me?" he repeated, like the idea was the cutest thing he’d ever heard, a slow smile pulling at his lips.
Jihoon tightened his hands slightly against his back, as if wanting to disappear into him. But the embarrassment didn’t push him away — it only drew him closer.
"Don’t laugh..." Jihoon mumbled, making a face that was meant to be serious but couldn’t quite hide the small smile breaking through.
"I’m not laughing," Sanghyeok said, his smile lingering anyway. "I like it."
Jihoon looked up and found those dark eyes staring back at him differently now — softer, more open.
He let out a small, almost relieved laugh and ducked his head slightly, trying not to look too excited. When he looked back up, their eyes met again. So close. So comfortable now in that closeness. And Jihoon felt it — almost without thinking, almost without meaning to — the need for a little more. Not something big, not something dramatic. Just... a little more of that connection wrapping around them.
He leaned in, just a little, hesitating for a second, as if asking for permission in the silence heavy with meaning. Sanghyeok didn’t pull away; he tilted his head slightly too — a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but enough.
Jihoon smiled nervously, and in a clumsy but determined move, he leaned closer.
Their lips met in a brief touch. There was no rush, no hunger, no desperation. Just a timid, sweet brush, like they were both learning how to fit into that moment.
Jihoon felt Sanghyeok’s nose bump against his in the motion — a small, awkward nudge that made him smile into the kiss. Sanghyeok let out a quiet laugh against his lips, a soft, breathy sound that buzzed gently between them.
The kiss didn’t last more than a heartbeat, but when they pulled apart, Jihoon saw Sanghyeok looking at him with a mixture of tenderness and something more. Both of their eyes were shining — a little nervous, a little amazed, but happy.
"Was that part of taking better care of me?" Sanghyeok murmured, his voice tinged with playful sweetness.
Jihoon covered his face for a second with one hand, blushing hard, but he didn’t move away. He just laughed, defeated.
"Maybe..." he mumbled, unable to hide his smile or his embarrassment.
Sanghyeok laughed softly again, and without letting go, let their foreheads rest against each other once more. This time, everything felt lighter. Easier. More them.
There was no tension, no fear anymore. Just two boys smiling like the world was a little less heavy, if only for a while.