Chapter Text
☾ ⋆*.
—Forwarded Message—
From: Tony Mancini <[email protected]>
Subject: USA Men’s Volleyball Inquiry Jeongguk Jeon
Jeon,
Here’s what they sent me. Let me know if you want to do this thing, and if yes, when. Hope to hear from you soon.
Tony
— — — —
Hello Tony,
We have prepared the offer for Jeongguk and are ready to complete the contract at your earliest convenience. Please respond back with a date and time both of you are available. The attached files include the itinerary for the upcoming season and information about housing and training. We will discuss the details of the contract in person.
Warm regards,
Susan Murphy
USA Volleyball Headquarters
4065 Sinton Road, Suite 200
Colorado Springs, CO 80907
—
The cursor blinks in the empty reply box, staring Jeongguk down. It’s time for him to make the decision. For years he’s turned them down, running away from the past and avoiding his regrets. Now, though, he’ll say yes, and it will be the first thing he won’t regret. Jeongguk will not look behind and spurn what lies ahead of him.
He misses him. He always has.
—
4 years earlier
A full-grown man is charging at Jeongguk. He has one second to either dodge or fight, but he flinches and holds his arms up, anticipating getting flattened on the pavement. This is going to hurt.
Except, it doesn’t. He opens his eyes and sees Namjoon, breathless and smiling. Jeongguk knows the guy. He’s seen him at the gym a few times, heard Jimin mention him, and knows he’s on the football team. Still, he didn’t think they were close enough to justify surprise full-contact sporting in the parking lot.
Jeongguk pulls out a headphone, and his music stops. His peaceful afternoon has already been interrupted, so he might as well see what Namjoon wants from him.
“I’ve been chasing you,” Namjoon huffs, bending over with his hands on his knees. He stands up straight and grins.
Jeongguk does not return the smile. “Why?”
“I’m having a party tonight, and I had to invite the new captain of the volleyball team. Here, I wrote the address down.”
Namjoon holds out a piece of paper which Jeongguk takes tentatively. He has an Instagram. A DM would work just as well as hunting Jeongguk down. Hell, it might work better. This whole experience has been so bizarre he can’t imagine this party will be his scene. Namjoon did pique his interest, though. He looks at the paper.
Namjoon points at a messy number. “That’s a five, by the way.”
“Cool,” Jeongguk responds plainly. “Thanks.”
He turns around and walks away. Thank god his car is right there, and he can make a clean getaway. He pulls open his door, but Namjoon slides behind him and closes it. Jeongguk turns around with a sigh.
“You’ll come, right?” Namjoon asks.
Jeongguk is starting to get annoyed, but he admires his persistence. This guy seems to really want him there. Why not? It beats watching New Girl with Jimin for the thousandth time over.
He answers, “I mean, I don’t have anything better to do tonight.”
Namjoon seems placated by that. He turns to leave, but calls behind him, “And, bring your cute friend!”
“Okay,” Jeongguk responds, but he can’t be sure Namjoon heard him. He’s already sprinting across the parking lot, probably to corner another jock coming out of the gym and give them a hand-written invitation on—Jeongguk looks at the address again—a receipt. He slips the paper into his pocket and climbs into his car.
Wait. His cute friend?
As he drives home, he considers who Namjoon could have been referring to. Of his three friends, he’s never thought to describe any of them as cute, but none of them are ugly either.
Jeongguk runs up the stairs to his third-story apartment, getting a last spurt of exercise in for the day before he spends the remainder of the afternoon lounging on the sofa. Rest only feels good after he’s earned it, after all. He steps into the apartment, kicks his shoes off in front of the shoe rack, and drops his bag by the door where it’ll probably trip Jimin later.
His three friends are in the living room playing Wii bowling. They shout some greetings at him, but none of them seem particularly interested in his arrival. At least Big Mac, his cat, is excited to see him. She rubs up on his ankles as he steps into the kitchen and runs some tap water into an old plastic cup he got at Freshman orientation week a few years ago and goes back into the living room, crossing in front of the TV and stopping in front of it.
Jimin complains, “What are you doing? You just cost me my fucking spare.”
Jeongguk pays him no mind. He eyes down each of his friends as he sips at his water. Jimin is cute, but Jeongguk would never say that out loud to him. He’s got a fluffy mop of honey-gold hair that makes him look more like an angel than he actually is.
Jeongguk is used to seeing Yoongi at practice, throwing himself to the ground to make life-saving receives. He’s usually sweaty and tired, but looking at him now it occurs to Jeongguk he’s actually somewhat…pretty? Weird. He moves on.
Seokjin is classically handsome, but he’s also goofy in a way that makes him approachable. There’s something cute about him, but it’s not the first word Jeongguk would use to describe him. He wishes one of his friends was ugly so that he could figure out who Namjoon meant.
Jeongguk admits, “I’m trying to figure out which one of you is the cutest.”
“What? Gross,” Yoongi says offhandedly as he tries to see past Jeongguk to play his turn on the game. Jeongguk steps to the side so he can see better.
“Me,” Seokjin decides.
“Wrong, it’s me,” Jimin disagrees. “And, fuck you, Jeongguk. If you’re going to block the TV while I’m playing, then you have to block Yoongi, too.”
Yoongi gets a strike and Jimin throws a couch pillow at him. Seokjin steps forward to play. He rolls the ball straight into the gutter, then turns back to Jimin. “I have inches on you, Jimin. It’s me. I’m the cutest.”
Seokjin hands Jeongguk his controller, and Jeongguk manages to knock all the pins down for him. The poor guy is 100 points behind Yoongi. It’s a good thing Jeongguk came when he did.
Jimin responds, “Height has nothing to do with it.”
Jeongguk looks around at them again. “I feel like it might be Yoongi.”
Yoongi gives him a funny look. “Seriously, what’re you talking about?”
Jeongguk plops down on the sagging, beige sofa and tosses the controller back to Seokjin. He picks at the loose threads on the armrests from where his cat scratched the fabric raw and responds, “Namjoon Kim invited me to a party tonight, and he told me to bring my cute friend.”
Jimin leaps up from his lounged position. “He meant me! Yoongi, why do you look like you think he meant you? Come here. I’ll kill you right now.”
Yoongi holds up his hands in surrender. “I don’t think he meant me. Jocks are fucking disgusting. But, why do you think he meant you? He could’ve meant Jin.”
Seokjin shakes his head. “Probably not. I dated his friend.”
Jimin seems convinced that Namjoon considers him to be Jeongguk’s cute friend. Jeongguk isn’t in a position to disagree with him; he also thinks it’s entirely probable it’s Jimin. The guy has spent so much time following the football team around it’d be pitiful if one of them hadn’t noticed him by now. Jimin needs this.
Jimin says, “Oh my god, guys, it’s finally happening. He wants me.”
“Maybe,” Jeongguk responds. He looks around at them again. “You know, I never really noticed before, but none of you are ugly. Why don’t we all just go?”
They all agree after Jimin forces everyone to swear up and down that they will not come onto Namjoon under any circumstances. The rest of the afternoon is spent playing various Wii Sports games and pulling Big Mac off of the curtains, which are starting to look war-torn and weary from all the run-ins they’ve had with the cat.
After a few hours, Seokjin and Yoongi go back to their apartment to get ready for the party. Jimin locks himself in his room and promises not to step out until he looks better than everyone else. Jeongguk isn’t as dedicated to or as concerned with his appearance as Jimin is, but he does put in some effort to look nice.
The summer heat has left his permed hair looking insane, so he rubs some oil on his ends to tame it. He likes how the curls sit under his ears and wisp across his forehead. He tosses on a white tee and some light-washed jeans. It’s good enough for the occasion, and the softness of it compliments his tanned skin. Jeongguk knows he looks good.
He goes to the kitchen to feed Big Mac. He’s been trying to get her to eat more wet food, but she prefers kibble for some reason. He’s settled on drowning the kibble in broth as a means of satisfying both of them; he knows she’s getting hydration, and she doesn’t have to choke down some disgusting goop. He plays with her until Jimin exits his room.
Jimin takes one look at him and says, “You look like a backstreet boy.”
“And you look like…the fucking queen of England? Are those real diamonds?”
Jimin touches his earrings. “No, they’re from Target.” He strides over to Big Mac and hoists her up with a dramatic groan. “Oh, baby, you’ve gotten so big. Be a good girl tonight. Don’t set the house on fire, and absolutely no boys allowed in your room, okay?”
Big Mac meows, and Jimin takes it as agreement. In reality, she was tired of being held. He plops her back down on the ground, and Jeongguk gives her one last scratch behind her ears before the two go grab Seokjin and Yoongi. They live on the floor beneath them, so they knock on their door and the group walks out to the parking lot together, bickering the whole way about who has to drive.
“I didn’t bring my keys. Jeongguk, did you?” Jimin asks, skipping down the stairs. Someone’s excited.
Jeongguk responds, “You know I brought my keys. I locked the door, but I got us the invite. I’m immune from designated driving. Yoongi, did you bring your keys?”
Yoongi makes a show of checking all his pockets. “Well, would you look at that? I didn’t. Huh, weird. Seokjin?”
Seokjin pulls his keys out of his pocket with a sigh. “I hate you motherfuckers so much.”
Jeongguk laughs. “If you don’t want to drive, you could pay for the Uber instead.”
Seokjin shakes his head and unlocks the car. “Just get in, and be sure to sit on the towels. If any of you scratch the leather I’ll kick your ass.”
Seokjin is extremely protective of his leather interior. Not that Jeongguk can blame him. Seokjin’s got the kind of car that he’s only dreamed of. He looks across the lot at his 2006 Honda Civic. The old thing gets the job done, but he longs for the day he can afford a car with reliable heating and cooling, two functional windshield wipers, and—Heaven help him—a leather interior.
Jimin gets to the car first but Jeongguk shoves past him and slides into the passenger seat before he can get a word of complaint in. Of course, that doesn’t stop Jimin from complaining.
“No fair, Jeongguk. I was literally about to open the door. Get out.”
“No.”
“Move.”
“No.”
Jimin rolls his eyes and climbs into the backseat with Yoongi, muttering about how he hates sitting behind Jeongguk because he never has any legroom. Jeongguk scoots the seat back a little further just to be spiteful. Jimin sticks his knee deep in the seat, so Jeongguk also feels uncomfortable. The two stay like that the entire way to the party, stuck in a war of attrition with neither willing to lay down their pride.
Jeongguk is shocked when they pull up to a nice house: two floors, probably a basement, a balcony, big windows, a brick exterior, three-car garage. He would need 20 roommates to afford rent on a place like this, probably. Does Namjoon live here? This has to be his parents’ house or something because there’s no way.
Jeongguk is used to pulling up to house parties and walking inside with his hands over his head in case a roof shingle slides off and drops on him. Going to a rager and walking past a well-maintained garden rather than a girl throwing up in a pothole is something he never could have imagined. He feels damn near opulent.
“Does Namjoon live here?” he asks.
Jimin nods, “Namjoon’s family is loaded, so probably.”
They step up on the porch and Jeongguk asks, yelling over the music that can be heard even through the door, “Do we ring the doorbell?”
Jimin doesn’t respond, and he instead pulls open the door and waltzes right into the house as if he owns it. Jeongguk follows after him with little complaint and is immediately swallowed by the heat of too many bodies. The summer heat outside isn’t exactly inviting, but it’s paradise compared to the swampy air of a living room during a house party. He needs to find the drinks immediately, then escape outside until he’s drunk enough to deal with the swelter.
There are, surprisingly, several people Jeongguk knows at this party. He eyes a boy he hooked up with last semester and gives him a flirty wave, then his eyes catch the eyes of a girl he also hooked up with last semester, and he drops his hand. Yikes. Having all his hookups in one spot is not ideal.
Their group pushes further into the party, Jimin leading the pack. He keeps standing up on his tippy toes in an attempt to peek over heads, probably looking for Namjoon. Seokjin and Yoongi follow closely behind Jeongguk with their arms linked as if they’re afraid to get lost in the mayhem.
An Akon song plays loudly over the speakers, and Jeongguk can’t help the swing in his hips as he walks, dancing his way through the crowd. He’s also looking for Namjoon; maybe he knows where the drinks are. Instead, he spots some other members of the volleyball team, huddled together by an unlit fireplace and drinking from red solo cups. They eye him at the same time and give him an awkward tip of their cups in greeting, then go back to chatting amongst themselves, probably about him.
“Ugh,” Jeongguk groans, “Who invited them?”
Somehow Yoongi hears him. He laughs, and lets out an admonishing, “Dude.”
Yoongi doesn’t agree with Jeongguk’s distaste, but he’s on much better terms with the team than Jeongguk is. Not that Jeongguk is on bad terms with the team; they just have some disagreements and problems that they’ve not gotten around to airing out. Last season was rough. Somehow, they made it to nationals. Jeongguk has no idea how they ended up in the final round because their last season’s team was nothing to call home about.
Jeongguk is one of the best hitters in the nation, and Yoongi is an outstanding libero, but the rest of them were lackluster, there to fill a spot and do little more. Or, at least, that’s how they treated their roles on the team. Jeongguk knows he’s intense, and he takes volleyball much more seriously than other players do, but his team didn’t seem to take it seriously at all. Especially that damned setter. Jeongguk will die still cursing him.
When they lost the finals at nationals, the team blamed him. If he’d been more gracious with the setter or trusted their receivers more or controlled his serves better, then maybe they would have won. They seemed to forget that volleyball was a team sport, not that they ever considered him part of the team. He supposes there are things he could have done better, but he worked harder than any of them, so he doesn’t want to blame himself. He can’t.
They practice as much as they want to, and he practices as much as he needs to. There is a stark difference in their motivations and efforts. Jeongguk is not one to lay down and take blame where it isn’t earned. They would’ve won if their setter tossed the ball properly, if their receivers were willing to break a sweat, and if anyone other than him had considered diversifying their serve set. He played well. No, he played his best, at least, the best he could do with a shitty team. Actually, maybe he is on bad terms with them. Good thing he got promoted to captain. They’re going to have so much fun running laps this year.
After a few minutes of them walking around, settling into the party, and socializing with the people around them, Namjoon finds them. He looks like the epitome of a college jock douchebag: a sleeveless shirt over black cuffed jeans, red solo cup in hand, and sunglasses even though it’s nighttime and they’re indoors.
He grabs Jeongguk’s shoulder resolutely. “You came! I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Jeongguk shakes his hand off while Jimin glares daggers at him. “Yeah, it seemed like you really wanted me here.”
Namjoon scratches the back of his head and gestures across the crowd with his cup. “You should head out to the pool. We’ve got drinks and stuff out there, and—hey, you brought your friend,” he eyes Jimin up and down, flashing a douchey smile at him. “Hi, Jimin.”
Jimin swoons, and Jeongguk escapes the situation before he becomes too sickened by it. He’s sure Namjoon is a great guy beneath all of his intensely masculine masculinity, but Jeongguk is still a little weirded out from his display earlier in the day and also the fact that Jimin spent fifteen minutes accessorizing just in case he saw the guy. He’ll get some drinks and then return to become best friends with him. That is if Jimin doesn’t have his tongue down Namjoon’s throat by then.
He turns around to make some sarcastic comment to Yoongi and Seokjin, but they haven’t followed him away. He shrugs and continues on outside. They better not be expecting him to bring back drinks for them.
He manages to track down the drinks, which are being distributed by two burly guys standing behind a fully-stocked fold-out table.
“You feeling punch or beer?” The shorter one asks him.
“You got anything on tap?” Jeongguk jokes.
Neither of the men laugh. Tough crowd. The taller one asks, “Natty Lite sound alright?”
Jeongguk takes it with a shrug, then a brilliant idea hits him. He’s got two linebackers standing in front of him, the most classic college beer in his hands, and he’s outside. When in Rome, right?
He gives them a daring look. “You guys any good at shotgunning?”
As expected, they are both very confident in their shotgunning abilities. The two of them rapidly snatch two cans for themselves and punch holes in them with their thumbs. They look at Jeongguk as if expecting him to do the same, but his fingers are essential for his sport. He cuts open his own can with his house key.
They count to three, and then put the holes to their mouths, pop open the tab, and chug like their lives depend on it. Jeongguk ends up with some beer on his shirt, but for the most part, it was a clean shotgun. He slams his empty can on the ground at the same time the two linebackers do. They have to be linebackers. Nobody is that built for no reason.
“A ‘gun well done, brother. Here’s one for the road,” the taller one gives him another Natty, and Jeongguk retreats away from the table.
He pats his chest, trying to break up all the air and carbonation he just swallowed. Once his stomach calms, he opens his can and nurses it. He leans against the wall of the pool shed and checks out the situation outside. There are fewer people out here, most of them grabbing a drink and then heading back inside. Of course, a few groups mingle along the edges of the fence and the well-pruned trees, and some people are fully-clothed and swimming in the pool.
A spot of red catches his eye, and once Jeongguk pays it attention, he can’t look away. A guy is resting on one of the pool loungers, lazily running his fingers through his bright red hair. His jeans sit low on his hips, and his top is completely unbuttoned, leaving his toned chest and stomach exposed and glistening. His feet hang off the end of the lounger, and Jeongguk suddenly wants to know if he’s taller than him. He has half a mind to go over there and find out.
Shit, he's hot. Pretty, even, too pretty. He looks quiet and content, laying there alone and staring up at the sky. Fuck, even his face is perfect. Soft lips and big eyes. Yeah, Jeongguk really needs to know what his voice sounds like. This could be a good way to end his night. He’s about to make his way over to him to strike up a conversation when two big guys crowd around him and hoist him into the air. Jeongguk leans back against the wall and assumes the guy’s friends must have gone off somewhere without him and now they’re going to throw him in the pool.
He’s bemoaning that he lost his window of opportunity to approach him when two equally-large guys come up to him and start dragging him away from his secluded spot. Confused, Jeongguk tries to break free, but all he manages to do is drop his beer and untie his shoelace. Fuck. He should hit the weights more.
Jeongguk gives up the fight and decides to use his words. “What’s going on?” he asks, the dudes now fully carrying him. Jeongguk tries dropping his weight, but the two don’t budge.
“You’ve been selected!” One of them answers gleefully.
“For what?”
The other one hollers, “For seven minutes in heaven!” The crowd around them cheers, and Jeongguk wonders if this is a normal thing to happen at these parties.
After about half a minute, Jeongguk gets dropped in a bathroom. As he’s standing up, something hits him in his head and clatters to the floor. He groans and immediately grabs at the doorknob. Locked from the outside. How convenient. His eyes fall to the floor, and he picks up the thing that got chucked at his head: a bottle of lube.
“Those bastards threw lube at me,” Jeongguk mutters.
He turns around and sees the red-haired guy sitting on the edge of the tub. He’s leaned over with his elbow on his knee and his chin resting on his palm. The traces of a smile make their way across his face, almost as if he’s in on something that Jeongguk’s not. Jeongguk is perfectly okay being in the dark on this, though. In fact, he’s starting to feel grateful that he got tossed in here.
And it is literally dark. The lights are off in the bathroom, and he attempts to flip the switch, but they don’t work. Instead, they’re surrounded by the dim lighting of some tea lights.
The guy holds up a little, plastic square. “You got the worse end of that. They just handed me this condom.”
His voice is deep and low, a steady timber that Jeongguk thinks would echo beautifully across the tiled walls if it weren’t for the synth and bass blaring outside the room.
He responds with a joke, “I can’t cum in under five minutes.”
The guy laughs. “Good thing we have seven, then.”
God, even his laugh is pretty. Jeongguk sits on the toilet lid, and he reasons to himself that it’s for the sake of sitting and not for the sake of being closer to him.
He picks up one of the tea lights. “They sure spared no effort in setting the mood. How much do you think these tea lights cost? Three, four dollars?”
The guy plucks the tealight from his hands, and Jeongguk watches his fingers as he pulls it away, long and slender. He holds the thing like it’s delicate, resting it on the tips of his fingers. His nails are trimmed and cared for. It’s amazing how such alluring fingers can make even a cheap, imitation candle appear elegant.
“Namjoon bought them at the dollar store,” he responds.
Jeongguk asks, “You know Namjoon?”
“He’s my brother.”
“Oh.” Jeongguk didn’t know Namjoon had a brother. Granted, he doesn’t know much about Namjoon at all. “I haven’t seen you around before.”
“How do you know?” He reaches past Jeongguk and sets the light back on the counter. As he pulls his arm back to himself, he allows his fingers to ghost across Jeongguk’s chest, a bare touch that sends goosebumps running up his neck. “Were you going to say you’d remember a face like mine?”
Jeongguk leans in closer as if to inspect his face. “Yeah, I think I would. It’s a good face.”
“Hm,” the guy hums and leans back slightly. His shirt falls off his shoulders at the movement, barely being held up by his biceps. “That’s a big compliment from Jeon Jeongguk.”
Jeongguk’s grin widens. Jack-fucking-pot. “You know who I am?”
“Of course I do,” he answers as if not knowing who Jeongguk is would be unimaginable. Jeongguk likes that. “From what I’ve heard, I should be honored to be here right now.”
“I can’t imagine you’ve heard that many great things on this campus. Unless,” he leans in closer once again, “You’re into the type of picture people like to paint of me.”
Jeongguk cringes internally. That was a weird thing to say, but, he said it, and he can't take it back now. Usually, people talk about him when they're telling someone else they've also hooked up with him. And, well, being easy isn't the worst reputation to have. He's friendly to some, indifferent to most, but he can hang. Mostly, people just call him an asshole and they move on. Luckily, the guy doesn't seem off-put by what Jeongguk said. He lifts a perfectly shaped brow up, tilting his head up slightly with a breathy laugh. They're so close he can feel it against his mouth.
The guy whispers, “I might be.”
Jeongguk is about to close the distance between them when a sharp knock hits the bathroom door. He jumps in surprise and looks towards the door. Someone yells, “Four minutes!”
Jeongguk’s heart falls because the moment’s been broken now, and he doubts they’re going to continue on like nothing happened, but then he feels slender fingers along his jawline, and his face is guided back until he’s nose-to-nose with the guy once again. He sucks in a sharp breath.
“What’s it going to be?” The guy asks, “Are you going to kiss me?”
“Yeah.”
He presses forward gently at first, an experimental and tentative kiss. When it’s reciprocated, Jeongguk breaks away and grabs him by his forearms and pulls him forward. He stands up off the tub and Jeongguk leans back, spreading his legs and making room. He looks up at him and blinks, watching him settle over his lap. Jeongguk was expecting some reserve, but he drops his weight fully on top of him with no hesitation.
He’s close, but he could be closer. Jeongguk grabs him by the hips, finding leverage on the belt loops and tugging forward. He can’t stop himself from trailing his mouth against the guy’s chest. It’s been enticing him all night. The faint taste of cologne lingers on his tongue when he kisses behind his ear, stomach swooping at the soft breaths against his cheek. He kisses his jaw next, gripping his hair to move his head to the side. The tan stretch of skin seems endless from this angle, leading down a flushed chest and then disappearing under denim.
Jeongguk moves forward to nip at his throat, leaving a sheen of spit behind on purpose. He pulls back to watch the dampness glimmer under the cheap candlelight. He goes back for more, collecting more spit in his mouth then spreading it with his tongue. He parts from his neck with a sharp bite, high enough so it can’t be hidden. If he doesn’t get to see him again he wants to be remembered even briefly. Once he’s done, Jeongguk trails his eyes up to his mouth, watching the way he drags his teeth over a plump lip.
He tilts his head up to capture it between his own teeth, not quite kissing but letting him know what’s to come. With a groan, the guy surges forward and slots their mouths together. His lips are soft, tasting faintly of cranberry from the seltzer Jeongguk saw him drinking by the pool. When Jeongguk pulls back to deepen the kiss, he feels him arch into it with a hot, muffled breath until their chests are flush together and his hips are sliding further up Jeongguk’s thighs. He uses the leverage he has on his belt loops to pull him even closer until he feels the warmth of his crotch against his own.
This definitely beats watching New Girl with Jimin. Their spit is making the kiss slick and wet, and Jeongguk breaks the string connecting them with his tongue when he emerges to catch his breath. The guy mutters something under his breath but he doesn’t catch it because he’s quickly surging forward to capture his lips again. The sweetness of his mouth is making him dizzy and he can’t get enough.
The added weight on his thighs numbs his legs against the hard surface and he wishes he could move his hips to create some friction. They don’t have more than a couple of minutes, but he needs some relief on his cock before he loses his mind. He yanks his hands forward until the weight fully settles over his crotch, then rolls his hips as much as he can while dragging the other’s hips down.
“Oh my god,” the guy breathes out, separating his mouth from Jeongguk’s to throw his head back in bliss. Jeongguk suppresses a smirk in favor of pulling him back into his mouth—he’s not done.
The added weight on his cock only makes his zipper drag painfully against it but he’s kind of into it. He wants to feel more of him; strip him naked on the bathroom floor, maybe take him home, but this will do for now. If he actually does manage to see this dude again, he’d definitely be Jeongguk’s hottest pull. He untangles one of his hands from the belt loop and slides it over the plush ass and puts more pressure. He takes the hint and starts moving his hips against Jeongguk’s with fervor.
The toilet seat under him creaks with the movement, but it doesn’t deter Jeongguk in the slightest. It could rip off its hinges for all he cares. He pulls the guy’s top lip between his teeth, then bottom, then kisses him until he needs to catch his breath then does it all over again. Grinding and kissing, panting as he feels pleasure swell in his gut.
The bathroom door slams open and the weight is ripped off his lap. Jeongguk instinctively reaches out for him as two big guys pull him away, but then the two dudes that carried him across the party earlier pick him up and carry him out of the bathroom as well. It would seem that their seven minutes are up.
“You’ve been kicked out of Heaven,” one of the guys confirms as they deposit him back in the party crowd. They traipse off, probably to find some new and unsuspecting people to lock in the bathroom.
Jeongguk looks around the party for a spot of red, but he doesn’t see the person he’s looking for. This must be it. Strangely, he’s content with that. Seven minutes in Heaven feels damn near sacred to him now, and he intends to honor its rules. If the two meet again, he’ll accept it as fate and go from there. For now, though, he’ll satisfy himself with drinks, music, and the knowledge that he got his hands all over Namjoon’s brother in his house.
His friends aren’t far from the bathroom, and he finds them with little trouble. Namjoon holds a bottle in his hands and is pouring shots for everyone in their emptied solo cups. Well, everyone except for Seokjin who is dutifully drinking a bottle of water.
“There you guys are!” Jeongguk greets them gleefully.
Seokjin pulls him into their circle, and Namjoon is quick to pass him a solo cup of his own.
Namjoon asks, “Jeongguk, you joining in?”
“Yeah, man, pour me some.” After Namjoon pulls the bottle back, he asks, “What’s your brother’s name?”
Namjoon tilts his head quizzically. “Huh?”
“Your brother. What’s his name?”
“Oh, Taehyung.”
Jeongguk holds up his cup. “To Taehyung!”
The rest of them seem confused by the dedication, but they don’t say anything. It’s not like they need anything to drink to, they just want to drink. He doesn’t see Taehyung for the rest of the night, but he manages to fill his time dancing with Yoongi and Seokjin and yelling at Namjoon and Jimin to get a room. Jeongguk is sure he’ll see that guy again. Taehyung, was it? It’s a good name.
—
Monday morning practices are exactly Jeongguk’s wheelhouse. He gets there earlier than the rest of the team, naturally finding his way to the gym after his morning run. The power-saver lights in the gym give him enough vision to get his personal warm-ups out of the way, and then he practices his serves until the rest of the team shows up. He was under a lot of fire last season for his serves, so he’s been heavily focused on them since. This season, he’ll give them nothing to criticize him for.
This morning, though, he hits the balls over the net lazily, just enough for them to get in but not enough to deter any halfway-decent receiver. His mind is consumed by red and a name he can’t stop saying out loud when he’s alone.
“Taehyung,” he whispers into the empty gym.
With a dreamy sigh, he decides he’s warmed up enough, and he makes his way over to his bag to drink some water and stare blissfully at the wall. He told Jimin about everything that had happened at the party after they got home sometime Sunday morning, and Jimin spent the entirety of last night mockingly making kissy faces at him and accusing Jeongguk of being ‘lovesick.’ Jeongguk is not lovesick; he’s horny and enamored.
He just can’t stop thinking about those seven minutes. He goes over them again and again in his mind: Taehyung’s voice, his touch, his lips. Like a broken record stuck on repeat, he lives out those minutes. He’s yet to grow tired of them, so he does little to stop his thoughts. Even as the team files in and Coach Holt begins his briefing, Jeongguk remains staring at that same spot on the wall, imagining his fingers in belt loops and pulling him closer, closer—
“...Taehyung Kim.”
He snaps out of his imaginings and finally brings his attention to his coach. Four boys stand in a line in front of them, their new teammates. Three of them are unremarkable, and Jeongguk doesn’t waste a second paying them any attention. At the end of the line, he sees red. Taehyung is staring directly at him.
“Taehyung is going to be our primary setter from this moment forward,” Coach Holt continues introducing him. “He’ll be leading hitting drills starting tomorrow, so be sure to get on his good side today.”
Jeongguk thinks he’s done more than enough to get on Taeyung’s good side. Coach Holt goes down the line of veteran players next and introduces them to the new players. When he gets to Jeongguk and starts listing his accolades and titles—captain, outside hitter, ranked top three in the nation—he puffs his chest out and stares right back at Taehyung.
Seeing Taehyung in gym clothes instead of tight jeans, he knows who he is now, and he feels stupid for not recognizing him sooner. Well, he didn’t have red hair the last Jeongguk saw him play. Taehyung Kim, the best setter in the NCAA, and it’s not even close. Jeongguk hasn’t paid particularly close attention to his career, but he follows volleyball well enough to know of him, to have heard of his reputation. They’re going to make a great team.
Taehyung must find him impressive, so he must agree. Actually, Jeongguk knows he does because of what happened at the party. What did he say? It’s an honor to be in a room with him. Jeongguk can’t wait to hit one of his tosses. He can’t wait to prove him right.
Jeongguk turns to the guys closest to him and asks, “Do you guys know anything about Kim?”
One of them jumps in excitedly, “I played against him in high school! He was part of one of those fancy-ass Chicago clubs, all prestigious and expensive. I’ve never lost a game so bad in my life. You might actually like this guy, Jeon.”
“So, a rich kid, then?” Another asks disdainfully.
“Guess we’ll find out today then if it’s money or skill that got him here,” someone else adds on, and the rest nod their heads as if in agreement that they’re not going to go easy on Taehyung.
Jeongguk understands their feelings, and he can’t stop the bud of resentment that springs in his gut, threatening to grow into something vicious and ugly. He never played in a volleyball club. It was the type of thing his family couldn’t afford, not even with the promise of a full-ride scholarship for college after it was all said and done. His current team isn’t good, and they never were. This school wasn’t his first choice; it was his only choice. They’re the only ones that offered a substantial enough scholarship. He wonders why Taehyung came here. Nobody that’s good and has money has any reason to.
Based on what he’s heard of Taehyung, though, he is good; rich or not. Jeongguk won’t make any judgments about him until he’s seen him play, but he is mildly distrustful. Oh well, it’s just another reason to watch Taehyung, another reason to pay attention to him. Not that Jeongguk needs another reason.
Holt blows his whistle, and Jeongguk leads the team in warm-ups. They start with simple stretches, making jumping and hitting easier on the body. Jeongguk is supposed to be watching the entire team so he can critique their form and make sure they’re stretching properly, but he has eyes for one person.
They’re in the middle of doing hamstring stretches. Are setters meant to be that flexible? Their last setter couldn’t even tie his shoes standing up, but Taehyung reaches forward to his foot, his face bent down and almost touching his knee. Jeongguk does his stretch halfheartedly, barely enough to feel the burn of it. Taehyung corrects his position slightly, rocking his hips on the ground so he can get a deeper stretch and dropping his hand lower on his foot so he’s gripping the bridge of it. Someone clears their throat, and Jeongguk realizes he wasn’t counting.
“Switch!” he calls out, and they switch legs.
He remembers to count this time, but he does it slowly, taking all the time in the world to look at Taehyung and all the ways he can bend and fold. Eventually, they stand up to do arm stretches, and Taehyung looks at him now. Jeongguk—a chronic show-off—flexes slightly as he stretches his shoulder. Pressing his hand further down his back and twisting so Taehyung can see his back and arms. He eyes him past his bicep and sees him smirking, watching.
Taehyung must be thinking about that night, too. Of course, he is. Something like that is hard to forget. They wrap up stretches, and Jeongguk leads laps around the gym. He expects Taehyung to run up front with him, but he looks behind him and sees him at the back of the pack. He must not like to run. Good thing Jeongguk is in charge. He stops doing laps after a couple more go-arounds. He can’t let the team slack too much, but he supposes he can take it easy on them today.
“Good hustle!” he hollers as they all pass the net line and come to a stop behind him, muttering about how lucky they got off with running today and wondering what’s got Jeongguk in such a good mood.
“You’re a little slow,” Jeongguk tells Taehyung as he passes the net line, but there’s no bite in his voice.
Taehyung shrugs. “I like to save my energy for the actual practice. No point tiring myself out by running in circles.”
Jeongguk takes a little offense to that. There’s some reward and purpose to endurance training. A volleyball player that gets tired ten points into a set is, frankly, useless, but Jeongguk will withhold his criticism until he sees Taehyung in a match.
Holt walks up to them with his clipboard, and Jeongguk straightens his posture as he takes up position next to him. If he respects one person in this gym, it’s his coach.
“We’re getting a little unorthodox today. We’re starting with practice matches, then we’ll go into drills once I get a look at what we need to work on. I’m gonna split you into teams now. I don’t wanna hear any complaints about your placements or else I’m letting Jeongguk keep you after practice to run laps.”
“Yes, Coach,” the team responds in unison. The new guys don’t respond the same way, and instead, look around like the uniformity of the team is unexpected. Jeongguk can’t speak much to their prowess on the court, but he’s perfectly gotten their behavior in line. A team that doesn’t behave in tandem could never play in tandem.
Holt splits them up into teams, and Jeongguk gets placed as an outside hitter on Taehyung’s team. Another new guy is on their side as an opposite hitter, but Jeongguk doesn’t pay him much attention. Once Taehyung gets a feeling for how Jeongguk plays, that guy will barely see the ball. He should just focus on blocking and receiving and let Jeongguk handle the offense.
They break their standard starting formation because Holt wants to immediately see the new players in their base position, so Jeongguk stands along the net to the left of Taehyung, and the other new guy stands to the right of him. On the other side of the court are the other two new guys and four other veteran players.
Jeongguk isn’t worried about winning the practice match; he never is because these aren’t real competitions. He is, however, intent on impressing Taehyung. He eyes down everyone on the other side of the net as if to tell them to bring their A-game. It’s no fun winning against someone who doesn’t try their best, and it’s certainly not impressive.
He looks at Taehyung, then, who has pushed his hair back with a headband for the game. Just under his neck, Jeongguk sees a hickey, a soft bruise that he left that night. He smiles pridefully as he approaches Taehyung.
“Just toss me as many balls as you can, and don’t worry about it. I can hit anything,” Jeongguk boasts.
Taehyung doesn’t respond. He just gives him a nod. It’s somewhat imperceptible, but Jeongguk takes it as a good sign. He returns to his position and drops into his stance as Holt blows the whistle, and then the game is on. Yoongi receives the ball, and just as Taehyung gets his fingers on it, Jeongguk jumps along the net.
He yells, “Mine!”
Taehyung tosses to him, and Jeongguk expects to see it, to feel the ball in his hand like it was delivered to him. Instead, it’s low and far from the net, the exact opposite of the type of ball he wants to hit. As he falls, he reaches out reactively and manages to barely tip the thing over. The ball hits the ground on the other side of the net with an unsatisfying bounce, and Jeongguk lands. The only reason they got that point is that the other team was expecting power, and instead, they got a dinky display. It was not a point worth winning.
Jeongguk glares at Taehyung. “What the hell was that? Was that supposed to be a toss?”
“You said you could hit anything,” Taehyung responds with a soft laugh.
Is this fucking funny to him? “That doesn’t mean I want to. I thought you were good. Look, just set higher next time.” He turns away and tacks on, “Please.” Then, he waits for the toss.
And, waits. And, waits some more. The bastard isn’t tossing to him. Jeongguk jumps, he calls for the ball, and it doesn’t come. Even the other team’s blockers follow him as if expecting Jeongguk to receive the toss, but each time they’re fooled. The opposite hitter Taehyung seems to have taken a shine to is having a field day. This time, Jeongguk doesn’t jump. He watches as Taehyung tosses to the other new guy. It’s fucking perfect: his form, the distance, the height. Was Taehyung fucking with him on purpose?
The ball gets blocked, and they lose the point because Jeongguk didn’t act as a decoy for them this time. He doesn’t care. Points in a practice match mean little to him. He’s more pissed because he’s not getting the opportunity to practice. What kind of setter doesn’t toss to their outside hitter? Is he fucking high?
Jeongguk scowls as Taehyung says some motivating bullshit to the rest of the team after losing the point.
He asks, “Why haven’t you given me the ball?”
“Their blockers keep moving to you. He hasn’t had any blockers.” Taehyung points at the opposite hitter who backs away slightly when Jeongguk’s scowl finds him. Jeongguk sizes him up. He’s not much. For one, he’s shorter than Jeongguk.
“I can break through blocks.” Jeongguk turns his attention back to Taehyung.
“Well, he doesn’t have to,” he argues back. “I’m making good and safe plays. It’s been working, hasn’t it?”
He turns around and goes back to his position, effectively ending the conversation. Jeongguk spends the rest of the match as a decoy, but, to Taehyung’s credit, the ball does find its way to him occasionally. It’s not as often as he likes, and the sets aren’t that great, but it’s better than not hitting the ball at all. He’s used to shitty setters by now. This one stings only because he was expecting more, because he got his hopes up for nothing. Maybe, he is just a rich kid with good connections.
They break for water after winning the first set. Taehyung looks too pleased as he sits on a bench, sucking out his water from a straw. He takes his headband off and ruffles his hair. Jeongguk watches as the sweat flies off it and some breaks away from his hairline to roll down his face, flushed and glowing from exercise. He shouldn’t look that good when Jeongguk is this pissed. It’s not fair.
He storms over to the bench. “What’s your deal?” Jeongguk asks. “Why aren’t you giving me any good balls?”
Taehyung sets down his water bottle with a sigh and pushes his headband back on as he responds, “The opposite hitter is new to the team, so no one knows how he plays. There’s an advantage there. We won, didn’t we?”
Jeongguk is baffled. “This is a practice match. Winning’s not really the point.”
“The point of any match is to win,” Taehyung says plainly like such a conclusion is obvious and doesn’t need to be said.
Jeongguk steps close to him. “No, the point of this match is for you, the setter,” he jabs his finger into Taehyung’s chest, “to set balls for me, the outside hitter, to hit. You know, to practice. But, you’ve only tossed me like one good ball.”
Taehyung grabs Jeongguk’s hand and moves it away from him. He drops it as he stands. “Relax. It’s not like this is the last practice match we’ll ever play. You’ll get your chance. Until then, just sit pretty while the setter makes the plays, and we keep winning.” Taehyung pats him on the shoulder. “Good talk.”
He walks away, and Jeongguk watches him, dumbfounded. He’s never met someone so good at getting the last word in. Makes the plays? Just who the hell does this guy think he is? Jeongguk should spit in his fucking water bottle, the smug prick. He’s genuinely considering doing just that when Yoongi walks up to him.
“Is that the guy you made out with at the party?”
Jeongguk stops staring at the water bottle and turns to Yoongi. “How do you know about that?”
Yoongi shrugs, “Jimin’s big mouth, obviously. He's been going through your Instagram following all morning to try and figure out who it was.”
“Yeah, that’s him.” Yoongi laughs, big and loud. Jeongguk questions, “What? What’s so funny?”
“The situation is just funny.” Yoongi’s laughs drop off with an amused sigh. “It’s really funny. Good luck with that, dude.”
Yoongi stalks off, and Jeongguk huffs indignantly. This isn’t funny; it’s maddening. He thought that he was going to be getting a good setter and a good sex life out of this, but now he’s realizing he’ll be getting neither. Taehyung is messing with him. Two can play that game.
Holt yells, “Jeon, on the court! It’s your serve!”
Jeongguk runs over, and Taehyung throws the ball to him. He gives him a smile, and Jeongguk must be imagining things because the smile seems genuine.
Taehyung says, “Your serve, Captain. Just be sure to clear the net.” Then, he turns around and faces the other side of the court, waiting for the whistle.
As soon as the whistle sounds, Jeongguk wastes no time wondering if this is a good idea or not. That was such a snide fucking comment. Clear the net? No, he doesn’t think he will. Jeongguk throws the ball up and hits it as it falls. He doesn’t hit it as hard as usual because he’s going for accuracy here. The ball flies forward and lands on the back of Taehyung’s head with a loud thwap.
“Oops!” Jeongguk yells, covering his mouth with fake sheepishness. “I missed! Sorry, Coach. I’m a little out of practice.”
Taehyung holds the back of his head as he turns around. He looks shocked, and rightfully so, but Jeongguk was expecting him to look angry. This reaction isn’t as satisfying, even if he does look kinda cute. His expression quickly twists though, as he narrows his eyes.
Taehyung asks, “Don’t you think you’re apologizing to the wrong person?”
“What do you mean?” Jeongguk asks cluelessly. “You know it was an accident.”
Taehyung looks like he wants to say more, but Holt cuts them off. “Shake it off, Kim! You’re good. Let’s get back to the game.”
They play through the rest of the set, and, this time, Taehyung genuinely doesn’t toss him one ball. Holt gets onto him a few times to utilize all the players on the court, but Taehyung pays him no mind. Not that Jeongguk wants to hit one of his stupid fucking tosses anyway. Why should his talent be wasted on second-rate, shoddy sets?
Of course, he doesn’t mean that. Taehyung’s sets to everyone else are perfect, a thing of beauty. Fuck, Jeongguk wants to hit one. Taehyung really was just tossing poorly to him on purpose. They go up for a block together, their shoulders brushing as Jeongguk slams the ball down. When they land, Taehyung side-eyes him condescendingly, as if looking down on him. Jeongguk knows he’s crazy because why does his heart beat faster when he looks at him like that?
The set finally ends, and Holt splits them up for drills. Jeongguk lies about his shoulder hurting a lot more than usual today and asks to run receiving drills with Yoongi. He spends the rest of practice diving for balls. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than spending one second longer in the vicinity of Taehyung.
After practice, he grabs his bag from the locker room and immediately leaves. He’s got some time before he needs to be at work, but he’s not going to stick around and gab with the team. They probably don’t want him to stick around either. If he’s there, then they have nothing to talk about. After all, Jeongguk is the subject of most of their conversations. He’d hate for them to be bored.
When he walks into the diner, he doesn’t greet anyone. Instead, he makes a beeline straight for the employee bathroom and locks the door behind him. It’s a disgusting room. He’s been pushing for management to add it on as a regular cleaning task, but no one seems to care. Usually, Jeongguk tries to avoid using the bathroom at all at work for this reason, but he needs somewhere to change.
He sets his bag on the sink, which is probably the cleanest surface in the room. He’s quick to change out of his gym clothes and into his uniform: a white t-shirt, blue jeans, a navy-blue waist apron, and some non-slip shoes. He pulls the top layer of his hair into a ponytail and smooths down any flyaways with some water. It’s not glamorous, but his face puts enough work in that he gets as many tips as he needs to get by. On Sundays, he cleans up a little more, usually putting on a dress shirt. The after-church lunch crowd is very generous when he wears a button-up.
This is a Monday brunch crowd, though. They’re less generous. He doubts he’ll be walking out of here with much. Maybe, enough to pay his phone bill? He does the math in his head. Yeah, enough for most of it at least. He does his pre-work ritual of going over all his monthly bills until he feels like he’s gonna throw up, then he plasters a pleasant grin on his face. If people don’t find him pleasing enough to give money to, they’ll hopefully find him pitiful enough. All he has to do is play nice and remember to refill everyone’s drinks.
He steps out of the bathroom and clocks in. By now, Jeongguk knows the drill, so he walks over to the server station rather than straight to the manager. He eyes the sheet and is happy to see he got stuck with a good section today. Finally, a spot of luck. He’ll for sure make enough to cover his entire phone bill.
Jimin comes back to the server station with a tray of dirty dishes. He passes the tray to Jeongguk. “Can you take these back to dish? I gotta go refill a lady’s Pepsi for the fifth time.”
Jeongguk agrees, and they reconvene back at the station. He asks Jimin, “How’s it going today?”
“It’s fine, same as usual. You missed Lisa. She came in earlier and was asking about you,” Jimin answers. Lisa is one of their usuals, an older woman that does nothing to hide her crush on Jeongguk.
Jeongguk nods. “Damn it. She always tips me twenty. How much did she tip you?”
Jimin grumbles, “Ten. How was practice? You looked pissed when you walked in.”
“It was terrible. Awful. One of the new guys is so fucking infuriating. I have so much to catch you up on,” Jeongguk says. Jimin leans in, always a sucker for gossip.
Another server comes to the station, the girl Jeongguk is taking over for. She interrupts them. “I got one more table to wrap up, Jeongguk, but they just seated two new ones. You should get out there.”
Jeongguk sighs. “Duty calls. I’ll tell you about it at home.”
Just then, a woman in Jimin’s section holds up a glass and waves at Jimin to come to her. Jimin groans, but keeps his smile so she can’t see. “Again? I literally just refilled that.” He calls to the woman, “Coming!”
Jeongguk grabs a few specials menus and makes his way out to the floor. This is all second nature to him by now, so he easily goes through the motions of serving. He does his best to upsell people. Most tip 20% regardless of the cost of their meal, so when he gets them to pay more, they tip more. He thinks of it as a commission and he’s really here to do sales work, not to clean up ketchup stains and refill iced teas.
He’s back at the server’s station, getting drinks for a table when two familiar men walk in: Taehyung and Namjoon. Taehyung notices him and looks Jeongguk over as if to check him out, looking him up and down. Jesus Christ, this guy is everywhere. Jeongguk tries to hide behind a menu, but his reaction is a second too late. He glares at the hostess, trying to pass on a telepathic message of seat them in Jimin’s section. Clearly, his message doesn’t go through because she seats them in his section. Fuck.
Jimin comes back to the station. He complains, “Pepsi lady finally left, but she only tipped me three fucking dollars. She wouldn’t have any Pepsi if I weren’t serving it to her! Eight fucking glasses later, and I get three dollars.” He finally looks up, and his eyes go to the two that just sat down. “Namjoon?”
Jeongguk grabs Jimin’s hands. “Please, take a table from my section. I’ll take one from yours, any table from yours.”
“The Namjoon table?” Jimin asks hopefully.
“Yes. I’m begging you.”
Jimin laughs, and Jeongguk drops his hands. “No need to beg. I was going to get you fired if you didn’t offer me it anyways. You can have table eight. I haven’t even taken their drink order yet.”
“Thank you,” Jeongguk says, relieved.
He goes to check in on table eight, a mother taking her daughter out for lunch after her dentist appointment. Jeongguk clearly got the better end of the deal on this one. He keeps at his work, and he and Jimin have little time to stop and talk to each other. He’s at the station processing a payment when Jimin finally stops for a moment and takes a breather.
“Namjoon gave me a fifty-dollar tip,” Jimin says, holding up a crisp bill.
Jeongguk responds plainly, “Cool.”
“Do you know the redhead?”
He glares at the checkbook as he shoves the debit card back into it. “Nope.”
“That’s weird because he told me to tell you that if you want the ball you’ll have to hit him harder next time. What could that mean?”
Jeongguk shrugs. “How the hell should I know? I gotta go now. Maybe my table will also tip me fifty bucks.”
Jeongguk stalks off, and Jimin yells after him, “I doubt it!”
Seriously, who the hell does he think he is? Jeongguk’s so pissed he can barely muster a smile when he hands the receipt to his table. Yeah, he will hit the ball harder next time. With people like that the best solution is always a smack to the back of the head. He’ll learn one way or another that what Jeongguk says on the court is what happens on the court. This is his team, and he’ll be damned if he gets pushed around by a guy that can barely set a ball.
☆ *.
“You gonna tell me why we tipped him fifty bucks on two cups of coffee?” Namjoon asks, eyeing his mug curiously. The rim is chipped, probably from too many run-ins with the dishwasher.
Taehyung smiles, the corners of his mouth pushing up into his cheeks until his sunglasses lift with the motion. The coffee tips over the rim onto the table when he knocks his knee into it, falling into a puddle next to the mug. It looks almost transparent against the yellowed wood—watered down. This place really is a shithole.
“The service was good. Tip your servers, hyung," Taehyung offers, hiding a smile behind the rim of his cup.
When Namjoon offered to take him out for breakfast he had no idea it would be Jeongguk’s workplace. It smells like fried eggs and the seat sticks to his legs, warm and wet in all the wrong places. Jeongguk smiles as he wipes down a counter to no one in particular, as if he's part of the place itself, as if he's happy to be doing such a menial task.
He would like it here; there's something sinister about the atmosphere. Taehyung never imagined Jeongguk would have a job, not a real one anyway. He imagined he lived off sponsor deals or a trust fund because no one who takes volleyball as seriously as he does could afford to do so without money.
Namjoon sets his mug down with a laugh, leaning forward on his elbows. He’s wearing the same shirt from last night. It seems that the football dress code here doesn’t entail sleeves. “Right. You done unpacking?”
He doesn't even try to pretend like he's thinking about which boxes he's opened and which he's ignored and stuck under the bed. He just stares at Jeongguk openly. As cute as he looks in his little apron, Taehyung really hopes he won't pull something like what he did in practice earlier. He gets it, though. He’ll let Jeongguk go through the growing pains of getting new guys on the team, but he better change his attitude sooner rather than later or else Taehyung might have to rethink who he’ll be setting to. He’s never seen a starting hitter not hit a single ball during an official game, but he supposes there’s a first for everything.
He looks different from the Jeongguk he’s used to seeing through a screen, though. He’s mellowed out in the confinements of the diner. It's almost endearing to see, how frustrated little mishaps make him, how annoyed he's getting with Jimin who keeps handing him dishes. Regardless if he likes it or not, a place like this doesn't suit him. Or, maybe it does. What the hell does he know about him, anyway? He's a good kisser, he smells good, plays good volleyball, but has a nasty attitude. Some things he found out sooner than others, probably in the wrong order. He's getting sidetracked too soon. He’s here for one reason: to help Jeongguk win his last season.
On a whim, maybe, but why not? Jeongguk needs him. After practicing with the team, Taehyung knows that now more than ever. They fucking suck. There's no rhythm, no direction, no fire. Jeongguk is too good for that, so maybe Taehyung should be a little nicer with him if he wants this to work in both of their favors. Their eyes meet for the briefest of seconds, and Taehyung looks at him openly. What will he do? Jeongguk collects a glass off the counter and ducks under the bar so he's completely out of sight, staying there even as Taehyung continues looking. Ah, but he's so fun to play with.
Taehyung rips his gaze away and looks back at Namjoon. “I’ll finish today. It’s so cramped in there. It feels like I'm in a shoebox.”
“I figured you were just getting an apartment again. I was surprised when mom told me you’d be moving into Sorin. You also could’ve moved in with me, I told you.”
“I’m not living with my brother and his jock friends. I wanted the full college experience, and dorming always seemed fun on TV. Besides, the roomie seems chill."
He’s unpacked most of the big things, but there are still some bins waiting under his bed. They’re mostly filled with old volleyball trophies and shoes, shit Taehyung would never bring if he had anywhere else to put it at all. He can’t keep these things on his nightstand, and he feels stupid buying a shelf just for that. Sure, he’s proud of his accomplishments, but he tries not to make them a conversation topic. His roommate doesn’t seem to share the sentiment. His side of the wall is covered in medals, almost reaching over Taehyung’s desk. Once he got a closer look he realized there were tiny men holding rackets engraved in the metal. Tennis, probably. Maybe badminton.
Namjoon perks up at that. “Yeah? What’s his name, maybe I know him.”
“Don’t know,” Taehyung says immediately. They definitely exchanged introductions, but he just can’t remember.
Namjoon gives him a funny look but lets it go. “Jeongguk came last night. It would’ve been embarrassing if he didn’t after you made me beg him to come.”
Again, his eyes wander. Jeongguk is leaning over the register now, holding a receipt. He offers the customer he’s been cashing out a tight smile when he hands it back, mouth pulling too far to the right. It makes his cheek dimple. He’s been looking at his mouth a lot today; how his lips thin out when he sneers, how they pull into a pout when he’s focused. How soft they were against his own. Fuck, definitely getting sidetracked. Taehyung's all about spontaneity, but this is too much even for him. It's been all of two days. He really just wanted to meet the guy.
Namjoon speaks up again. "I still can't believe you just came here to play with him. It's sweet, but also kind of insane."
"Shut the hell up," Taehyung hisses, although they're speaking Korean and virtually no one understands them except maybe Jeongguk and Jimin that are standing on the the other side of the diner. "Don't go around saying that to other people."
Taehyung is a fan, to put it lightly. He’s watched all of Jeongguk’s games since he made noise in the volleyball community three seasons ago. He was just a freshman back then, but he ended that season with the highest scoring average in a set the school has ever seen. It was all in vain, though. They lost nationals last season and from what he’s heard today at practice, it was all Jeongguk’s fault.
Taehyung’s not stupid enough to buy into that. He’s seen all of the online forums questioning Jeongguk’s performance last season. Albeit fewer in number, he’s also come across a few posts from fans praising Jeongguk both for his improvement and consistency. They get it; they see what Taehyung sees. It’s not his fault, no, it’s that setter Taehyung knew he’d be replacing when he transferred here. He wasn’t skilled enough to use him to his full potential, but Taehyung is.
Taehyung can make Jeongguk win nationals.
Namjoon sits up straighter and puffs his chest out, pulling Taehyung’s attention back to him. “Whatever. I'll indulge your little whims, that's what big brothers are for. Besides, I had some skin in the game, too. He brought Jimin.”
Taehyung raises his eyebrow. “Oh and we’re at his workplace the next day, convenient.” He looks over to where Jimin is talking to a customer before continuing, “He’s cute.”
“Yeah, we’ll see where it goes,” Namjoon says, in some small voice Taehyung's never heard come out of him. He’s been telling Taehyung about him for the past two months. “How was practice, by the way? Jeon give you that hickey before or after?”
“Hyung,” Taehyung whines, awkwardly tilting his chin to the side in an attempt to hide it. It only makes Namjoon laugh. He wouldn’t be so coy about it if he didn’t have to see the guy every day now.
It seems like Jeongguk got a big fucking ego along with recognition. It’s not uncommon, usually following one good game and nothing else to show for it. Jeongguk has consistently been on top of his game so it came as a bit of a shock. Taehyung had given him a shit first toss as a bit of an icebreaker. Looking back at it, he might’ve even been flirting with him. He thought maybe they’d laugh it off and pick up where they left off that night right in the locker room. Plans are allowed not to go by plan if they still work out in his favor, and getting his hands all over Jean Jeongguk is somehow better than anything he could've thought up on his own. He didn’t expect Jeongguk to blow up at him like that, not at all.
He thought Taehyung was good? He is good—the best. Sure, he's a fan, but he's not going to let Jeongguk get a big head about it. The only thing Taehyung needs from his team is to trust him. He doesn’t need them to worry about what’s happening on the other side of the net; he does that for them. He’s never had anyone question any of his plays. If Jeongguk doesn’t trust his plays, he’s not getting the ball. Yeah, he’s great, but he’ll only stand out as much as his setter allows him to—as much as Taehyung allows him to. He really hopes Jeongguk understood that today. If he didn't, then he'll just have to beat some sense into him.
Across the diner, Jeongguk’s behind the greeting counter, leaning close to Jimin. They’re whispering about something that definitely isn’t appropriate, judging by Jeongguk’s grin. Taehyung catches himself watching yet again, amused despite himself. He looks cute when he smiles. This Taehyung knows for sure about him. Almost as cute as when he’s sulking on the court, impatient for a set that hasn’t come yet. He’s seen him aroused and flirty, annoyed and focused, all those emotions right there on his face. Every version of Jeongguk feels startlingly real, unfiltered in a way that can only be honest.
He studies him for a moment longer, watching the easy movement of his mouth, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. Taehyung can’t read his expression, not fully, but he looks at it anyway. He stares long enough to realize that his only thought is how pretty Jeongguk is. Weird.
Jeongguk glances up and catches him staring. He doesn't pretend to be busy on the floor behind the bar this time. He looks right back, so clearly irritated. Even that expression is so honest Taehyung can't do anything but delight in it.
He leans back in his seat, still watching Jeongguk as he mutters to Namjoon, “You know what, hyung?” Taehyung's voice comes out teasing without meaning to, as if he's saying the words to Jeongguk himself, "I think I'm really going to like it here."
—
After saying goodbye to Namjoon, Taehyung sets out back to his dorm. He should try to make his room feel a bit homier before he’s swept away in pre-season. The walk to his building is short but dreadful, the blazing heat beating down his back. He saw his roommate lug a massive fan up the stairs yesterday and he hopes he’ll be nice enough to point it in Taehyung’s corner, too.
He tries following the shade but it eventually leads him to an unknown path and he’s forced back into the sun. He wanted to familiarize himself with the campus but now he really regrets saying no to Namjoon when he offered him a ride. Luckily, he spots his building only a few minutes into his walk and scurries toward the entrance.
Only then he realizes he’s a fucking idiot who forgot his student ID and can’t open the door. His ID is in his gym bag sitting in his car. His car keys are in his room. Fuck. It’s just his luck that not a single person seems to be leaving or entering the building. This all would’ve been less of a hassle if Taehyung just remembered to ask his roommate for his number. He swears that’s the first thing he’s doing once he sees him.
He’s left there boiling in the sun for a good ten minutes until he spots someone moving on the other side of the door. He flattens himself against it with his arms against the glass, fist banging harder with every second he’s ignored. Finally, finally, the guy turns in his direction with a raised eyebrow. The fucker has the audacity to stand there and hesitate. Taehyung recognizes him as one of the RA’s that usually works the afternoon shifts at the desk.
Taehyung resorts to a less violent approach. He hopes his smile comes off as more pleading than insane. It must have because the guy makes his way toward him. He steps away from the door to let him open it and immediately tries pushing his way in. He can feel the air conditioning as soon as it opens. He’s so close.
The guy pushes his head through the gap, scanning the area like he’s doing something top secret and not just opening the door for a resident. He’s over it at this point. He’s got like a head on this dude, he could probably just shove him out of the way.
“Can I help you?
Taehyung huffs, stretching his neck to look down at him. “Dude, what? I live here. I just forgot my ID. Let me in.”
“Yeah? What room?”
“207, with. You know, the racket guy,” Taehyung adds uselessly.
The guy seems to mull it over for a second, then realizes he probably doesn’t get paid enough to care. With a shrug of his shoulders, he pushes the door and lets Taehyung in. The temperature change sweeps his body in goosebumps. He doesn’t even offer a thank you before he makes his way to the elevator. His shorts are sticking to his ass, he’s almost positive he’s sweating out all his hair dye, and he can’t even remember if he’ll need his keycard to get into his room. Today is just turning out to be more trouble than it’s worth.
Taehyung waddles his way down the hall to his room. It’s conveniently placed at the end of the hallway, so he has to squeeze past the students and parents moving in. He had most of his stuff flown in two weeks earlier and kept it at Namjoon’s house, slowly moving in his boxes in small batches. He’s not really sure what dorming etiquette entails, but he figures that’s better than piling up his things until he wills himself to unpack everything at once. It’s already cramped in there.
It turns out his keycard dilemma is a non-issue because the door is already cracked open. There’s a shoe stopping it from closing; his roommate must’ve had the same plans for today as him. Taehyung reaches for the handle, pushing against it with more force than necessary. He walks right into the door when it catches on something behind it and doesn’t open all the way.
Seriously? He calls out an inquisitive, “Hello?”
“Sorry! I just kind of put my shit everywhere. Give me a second!” He hears his roommate call out from the other side. Taehyung hears some clattering, then a loud crash followed by a few curses until the door finally swings open.
“Hey, Tae– come in, sorry.”
Apparently, he’s on nickname basis with Taehyung, meanwhile, he can’t even remember his name. It would be too rude to ask right now. He’ll just hope he drops it in conversation at some point, otherwise, he’ll have to snoop through his things until it comes up.
Taehyung looks over his shoulder and sees the mess only on the other side of the room, except for the box that’s wandered off to the door. It’s all arranged into a messy pile that doesn’t cross the line of Taehyung’s desk. He’s kind of touched by the thoughtfulness. He’s never shared a room with anyone in his life, not even Namjoon when they were kids. The closest thing he’s had to a roommate was his cousin staying with them for a week the winter of his 13th birthday. He pissed the bed the first night, and Taehyung slept in the guest house for the rest of the week.
The past few days have been nice, though. The guy seems friendly enough, not overbearing or intrusive in a way Taehyung imagined he’d be once he told him he was a transfer. He seems to be pretty busy until late afternoon, so it still leaves him with a bit of alone time during the day. He doesn’t look like a bed pisser either so, overall, this is looking to be a good experience for him.
Taehyung kicks his vans off outside the door, then picks them up and neatly tucks them under his bed. His roommate gives him a funny look but doesn’t comment on it. Despite living in America for most of his teenage years, wearing shoes indoors is something he could never get used to. He eyes the carpet covering every corner of the space, then his roommate’s shoe-clad feet. They should invest in a vacuum.
“All good. I’m gonna do the same. Yell at me if I’m in your way,” Taehyung says, sitting on his bed.
“Cool,” the guy says cheerfully. There seems to be enthusiasm behind everything he says.
There’s a generally positive vibe to him, a little pep in his step as he moves across the room. He smiles a lot when he talks like it’s a natural reaction to being addressed. It’s a nice smile; it kind of looks like a heart.
Taehyung watches him pull headphones out of his bag and figures that’s the end of their conversation. Despite what he just told him he doesn’t move from his bed for a while. He scoots further up the bed until his back is leaning against the wall and his feet are hanging off the edge. He should really take a shower before he does anything else.
There’s a stark contrast between their sides of the room. There are medals and trophies tastefully arranged across the wall, some placed higher than others. The empty spots are filled with posters of what Taehyung realizes are tennis players once he sees a pile of tennis rackets sticking out of the closet. They’re all wearing cute little white sets with matching visors. It could all be the same person. He knows fuck all about tennis players.
A rather large trophy catches his eye. It’s a silhouette of a man throwing a ball in the air, ready to hit it with a racket. It seems to be encased in gold, sitting on a heavy-looking piece of marble. It was a good idea not to put it above the bed, that thing looks deadly. There’s a plaque with engraving on it at the bottom and Taehyung finds himself moving forward to read the tiny writing:
NCAA Division I
Hoseok Jung
National Champion
Yeah, Taehyung would be putting that front and center if he had an achievement this big to display. He can’t imagine what it’s like winning nationals in an individual sport. Even if he wins nationals this year, his name won’t be on a trophy like this. It must be an indescribable feeling. His roommate is kind of a badass.
“I won that last year.” Taehyung startles when he hears his roommate—Hoseok—speak next to him. He promises to remember his name this time. He feels a little awestruck; he must be a big deal in their world. He wonders if he should ask for an autograph or something.
Taehyung points to the statue before jokingly asking, “Is that you?” He hasn’t had much luck with jokes today. He hopes it doesn’t go as it went with Jeongguk. He lives with the guy.
Hoseok is a good sport, cracking another one of his heart-shaped smiles. It naturally makes Taehyung smile, too. “Yeah, they molded my silhouette per my request. I modeled for a sculptor for 10 hours as he scaled me to size.”
Taehyung refrains from pointing out that it couldn't have been too difficult. Hoseok is small in stature, but so are most people around him. He doesn’t want to cross any boundaries with him yet; he barely just learned his name. He settles for a safe reply. “Well, he did a really good job, Hyung.”
Hoseok’s eyes widen in curiosity. “What year are you in again?”
“I’m a sophomore.”
“No way. Did you start late?”
Taehyung laughs. “What? No, I just turned 20 in December.”
“Damn. You just look,” he uses his hands to gesture towards his face, “older. Doesn’t help that you have a foot on me.”
“I do not have a foot on you. If it makes you feel better I’ve always been average height compared to the rest of the team.”
“How are you liking the team, by the way?” Hoseok asks, taking out his earphones entirely and setting them down. He moves over to his bed and gets comfortable, seemingly done with organizing for now. Taehyung eyes his polka dot sheets, tastefully paired with a matching rug. He glances back at his boring gray ones.
“It’s always weird being the new guy, but they’re cool,” Taehyung replies honestly. He doesn’t move from where he’s standing in case Hoseok decides to end the conversation there and he has to go back to pretending that he was doing something.
“I don’t really know any guys on the volleyball team. Well, I know Jeongguk, but that’s just because he briefly dated one of my teammates. He seems cool, I guess, but I’ve heard he’s stuck up. Oh, I know Yoongi.” Hoseok muses.
Suddenly, he can’t think of any version of Jeongguk but the one he saw at the party: Jeongguk under him, panting, pulling closer. That night gets pushed to the forefront of his mind, today’s practice almost a distant memory. Kind of. Jeongguk looked really fucking good during practice. He knows his shitty attitude should deter him but it seems to have the opposite effect on him. That’s all he can think about, but Taehyung can’t tell Hoseok that. That ball must’ve hit him harder in the head than he thought.
“Yeah, that won’t get him far with me. He’s good, though, like he’s kinda a big deal in the volleyball community. I’m happy to have an opportunity to play with him.” Even if he’s a bit of an asshole. Taehyung’s been a fan for a while, after all.
“I’ll give the guy that, at least. I’ve never heard someone accuse him of being bad at volleyball.” Hoseok’s stomach growls and he whispers to it to shut up. He looks at Taehyung sheepishly. “That’s my cue. I’m gonna hit the cafeteria. You wanna come?”
Taehyung is still suffering from his time in the heat, and a meal sounds like the last thing he wants. He shakes his head. “No, I’m good. I should shower. I’ll catch you later, though.”
Hoseok hops off his bed, his shoes still on his feet. Those polka-dot sheets will not last long under these conditions. He strides across the room. “I’ll bring you back some chicken tenders.”
Then, he leaves with a little wave.
Taehyung smiles to himself and goes about putting his stuff away. Well, he pretends to put it away. What really ends up happening is that he piles it all on his desk and swears that he’ll clean it up tomorrow. He rethinks that shower, too. Now that he’s finally in the air conditioning and within the sanctity of his room, he feels the exhaustion of the day catch up with him. They ran one too many laps this morning. Yeah, his shower can wait until tomorrow as well.
He settles with changing into a pair of basketball shorts and an oversized t-shirt before hopping onto his bed and reaching for his laptop that he set along the windowsill. He types in his password, “BRezende”, and clicks on one of the eight open tabs. Any would do. They’re all Jeongguk related in some way: an interview here, a best-moment compilation there, a preliminary match from Nationals two years ago. He settles on the best-moment compilation and restarts it from the beginning.
Jeongguk truly is an amazing player. His form has been fine-tuned over years of practice and dedication, probably now as second nature to him as walking or breathing. He jumps high, almost too high. Taehyung holds his hands over his head as Jeongguk sprints forward in the video. He imagines the exact moment the ball hits his fingers, the feeling of forcing the weight of it up, and he watches as Jeongguk slams it down over the blockers and where the libero can’t reach.
Precision setting isn’t an easy thing to master, especially at that height and speed, but Taehyung isn’t the best setter in the NCAA for no reason. He’ll match Jeongguk in every way he can, and he’ll make the most of his abilities. With Taehyung by his side, Jeongguk can win—he’ll make sure of it. All of his research on Jeongguk the summer before his senior year of high school has led to this. Taehyung can finally show him all the plays he’s written down, things he only wants to try with him.
The more they practice together the more they’ll get used to each other. Taehyung can handle him on the court. He’s dealt with worse assholes. Once Jeongguk starts viewing him as an asset to his win, he’ll play nice. Their chemistry on the court isn’t what’s worrying him; no, it’s the knowledge of what Jeongguk’s body feels like under him that is.