2014: Unforced Errors (2/4) (for 181cms)

[enaemouredmods]

( tiebreak ) Kyungsoo wakes up with a tiny jerk of the body and the press of his pencil and eraser warm on his cheek. The clock reads 5 a.m., and he stands from his seat, knees still weak. Everything is a haze, and it's not even because of the bangs draped over his eyes. It certainly isn't his unfinished reviewer, either. The image of Baekhyun's piercing stare flashes before his eyes and he feels a surge of warmth throughout his body. Too quick, like taking a punch to the gut. He opens his eyes wide, lungs suddenly filled with too much air. He takes quick breaths; the scenes from last night are much too clear in his mind. He makes his way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. His mother's already preparing breakfast — the usual rice and seaweed soup. If Kyungsoo's not feeling lazy, he'll look for kimchi in the fridge or the reheatable tteokbokki. "Tea?" his mother offers, and he manages a small smile before heading straight to the bathroom to rinse off the remnants of last night from his face. — the curve of the back, the column of Baekhyun's neck, Baekhyun thrusting and thrusting and thrusting into the boy's mouth. The tiny sounds Baekhyun made — He feels a sizzling heat his roll down his stomach. His reflection in the mirror stares at him like a hungover minor, laughing at him for his bad decisions. "Shut up," he says to no one in particular. His eyes are still locked onto the reflection, though, like a force drawing him in, shoving a truth in his face. "Wake up, Kyungsoo. Get yourself together," he tells himself. He splashes water on his face, purposely splashing hard so the water pierces his eyes. His vision is clouded. He can see better through the fog in his eyes — he's not ready to go to school, not ready to face Baekhyun. Not ready to face himself in the mirror with Baekhyun just beside him, reminding him of a thought he'd pushed to the very back of his mind. "Don't choke," he says to his reflection one last time before getting out and shutting the door behind him. When his mother addresses him with a warm smile, he returns it. It's an easy enough gesture that doesn't require thinking or processing, all muscle memory and no logic. Something Kyungsoo can do without debating with himself halfway through if he's doing the right thing. There's a sinking feeling in his stomach everytime he recalls Baekhyun's parted lips as he orgasmed, recalls Baekhyun's gaze fixed on him. He almost throws up in his soup, but the gentle smile on his mother's lips gets him through breakfast. "Can I skip school today?" he asks his mother, and she just laughs at him like it's the funniest joke she has heard him crack in a while. It isn't — it's a serious question, a matter of importance, a way to solve the sinking feeling in his stomach. He shrugs when she doesn't answer and sips the rest of his seaweed soup. There are lessons to be studied. There's a match to be won. There's a dull ache in Kyungsoo's temples when he greets Jongdae with a smile. "Don't say it — I know I look awful," he mumbles even before Jongdae can ease the furrow of his eyebrows. "Didn't sleep well. Had to catch up on lectures. Studied 'til 4 a.m.. Stayed behind to practice." The last one leaves something lodged in his throat, pushing down all the air fighting to claw up and out. He keeps his eyes open, fixed on the patch of color on Jongdae's bag. He'd taken medicine earlier in the hope of feeling less of a zombie than he already was, but it seemed that he needed a cure not known to humans. Jongdae gives him a long look. He chuckles. "I wasn't going to ask," he says, then lays a palm flat on Kyungsoo's shoulder for a while. Kyungsoo looks at Jongdae's hand, looks up to meet Jongdae in the eye. He waves off the thought of shrugging off the sliver of comfort. Jongdae squeezes his shoulder lightly, then ushers him forward. The heavy feeling in his chest lightens considerably at the sound of balls bouncing off the court. He doesn't fight the light upward tug on his lips, then slowly weasels out of Jongdae's one-armed hug. "I'll go warm up," he calls out, looking over his shoulders, and he makes his way to the court farthest from the big group, taking his racket out of the bag once he settles in. A few dribbles of the ball and he starts his practice, tossing the ball up into the air. He slips into a familiar skin, a familiar pair of shoes. He swings his racket from the left to the right, grinning when he lands a good shot on the service court. A nice, clean kick serve. "Didn't think I'd see that again," a familiar voice says. Kyungsoo doesn't have to turn his head — Baekhyun's well within his field of vision, the confidence in the way his spine snaps straight as he walks making him stand out. "How are you?" Baekhyun asks. If Kyungsoo hadn't flushed out every lilt of Baekhyun's voice from his system earlier, he'd hear the concern through the collective bouncing of the balls. "You have the nerve to show up," Kyungsoo replies. He tosses another ball, hits it with a nice slice. His serve's a bit off — it should have hit the space a few inches to the right. "I'm more responsible than you give me credit for, you know." Kyungsoo scoffs. "Yeah, whatever." He walks close to the net, picking up three more balls. The smoothest goes first, and he slips the other two in his spandex. "Too responsible, even. Did you really have to take care of that kid? He seemed pretty capable." Baekhyun heads to the other side of the court. "And you really won't let it go." Kyungsoo's grip on the ball is tight; on his racket, even tighter. There's a sharp pain in his right arm, and it reaches his neck. He winces at the feeling. The pain has been haunting him more recently, when he hits heavier balls. There really shouldn't be much strain on his right arm since he hasn't been using it at all, but controlling the direction of his ball toss adds a bit of pressure to the shoulder. It's not even his shoulder that should be hurting. "You weren't supposed to be there, Baekhyun," he says now, voice fainter than it had been earlier. Baekhyun moves closer to the net. "You were supposed to be home, or maybe in the showers, not with— That kid? That kid had a lot of potential. But now that you've ruined him—" "You talk as if being gay is a disease." Baekhyun snorts. "You like doing this, don't you? Torturing yourself, making yourself miserable?" You don't know what I've been through, he wants to say. Nobody knows. No one's aware of Kyungsoo's struggles, how he has to push himself harder than before, how it still feels out of place to be playing with a hand that he'd long stopped using, how all those nights in Germany trying to flush out memories of Jihoon had been some of his worst nightmares. "Stop accusing me of being— I'm not like you, Baekhyun. I have goals, and banging a guy isn't one of them—" Baekhyun's left eye twitches. "Well fuck you, Do Kyungsoo. Defeat me in a match, then you can diss on me being honest with myself." Kyungsoo scoffs. So self-assured. He looks at Baekhyun before turning on his heel to head to the baseline. "Prepare your fragile heart, then," he calls out to Baekhyun over his shoulder, and he feels pain shooting up his arm again — the left one, this time. He takes a deep breath and bends his knees. The image of Baekhyun sliding down the lockers flashes before his eyes. Baekhyun aims an easy flat serve that Kyungsoo so narrowly misses returning properly, and all Kyungsoo can think of is Baekhyun's heady gaze, the one that had fastened him on his spot as Baekhyun came at the back of the freshman's throat, as Baekhyun pulled away with a smile — easy, confident, bearing no regrets. "That's got to be your worst performance ever." Kyungsoo simply rolls his eyes as he meets Baekhyun at the net and waves off Baekhyun's outstretched hand. "I'm just tired," he replies, walking to benches. Baekhyun bounced back from being down by 3 games, 1-4, and hadn't given Kyungsoo any opportunity to break back. Baekhyun's form was perfect then — proper backhand stance, right footwork as he moved from one shot to the next, the pronation as he hit the last serve with an easy slice sealing the deal. 40-0 — game, set, and match. "You've got the stamina of an eight-year-old," Baekhyun says, voice faint behind him. Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, quickening his pace. He can see Chanyeol and Jongdae's figures in the distance. A few more games to go through, one match to be won. A hand comes to rest on his shoulder and he quickly shrugs it off. His feet stay rooted on the spot, though — between courts two and three, as some of the freshmen who are playing change sides. "Change that: you're acting like a kid. What the fuck is wrong with you?" "There is nothing wrong with me," Kyungsoo says through gritted teeth. "You— you're the one who's got something wrong going on. Fix that thing of yours, Baekhyun. And get your facts straight." "Always choking on an important point." Baekhyun shakes his head, the faintest smile surfacing on his lips. "I'm still working on that backhand stance. Conscious effort." Kyungsoo leans back for a while, like the small change is distance will make things easier to digest. Breathing space has always been an issue with Baekhyun, and Baekhyun is a rule-breaker, a risk-taker. Baekhyun looks up at him like he means to ask, can you run that stance by me again? or can you teach me how to do that backhand drive? Kyungsoo stares at the fingers wound tightly around his wrist, stares at the racket propped under Baekhyun's arm, eyes traveling up until they rest on Baekhyun's collarbones. "Looked fine earlier," Kyungsoo mumbles. He shakes off Baekhyun's grip with one motion, and Baekhyun does him the favor of letting his hand fall to his side. "Toss the ball slightly to the left if you want a better kick serve." A smile lights the corners of Baekhyun's lips. "I'll give that a shot." The start of the tournament comes sooner than expected. Chanyeol's more listless than ever, doing his rounds and giving people a pep talk. Jongdae hovers from time to time, giving the occasional pat on the back or the sidetracker smile. "He's excited," Jongdae mumbles in Kyungsoo's ear, and Kyungsoo just snorts when Chanyeol takes a deep breath, shoulders dropping as he exhales. "Too excited," Baekhyun quips. He snakes an arm around both Jongdae and Kyungsoo's shoulders, and Kyungsoo tries to not let reflex kick in. He clasps his hands in front of him. "I'm getting tired just watching him walk." "Breathe," Kyungsoo mumbles. "Lots of heavy breathing. Not good for his game." "He'll blow them away later, anyway. Dae-man here's gonna keep Chanyeol in check, yeah?" Jongdae laughs a little. The awkward smile on his lips gives him away. "I'll see what I can do." They're up against Anyang High today, and the players have at least twenty centimeters on Kyungsoo. From the corner of his eye, he can see Jongdae giving the players a once-over, eyes lingering longer than the usual on their balled fists. "All righties," Jongdae whispers, and Baekhyun nods in agreement. Their spines are straight and their faces are unreadable. Only the kid at the farthest right looks scared — freshman, first tournament. Scared of screwing up. Kyungsoo had been in that position before. "Jongin and Sehun, you're up." Yunho gives the two a pat on the back and a few reminders before sending them to the court. Chanyeol slips beside Yunho, and Jongdae takes his place beside Chanyeol. "We have to win both doubles matches; their singles players are really good," Yunho says, loud enough for Kyungsoo to catch and, beside Kyungsoo, Baekhyun just cackles. He can see the abrupt pause as Yunho stops midway through raising his hand, then carries on with his spiel, telling Chanyeol and Jongdae to secure the second win. Zitao's somewhere in the back, psyching himself up. "See, this is the problem with singles one and two." Baekhyun draws his shoulders back as he stretches. He flexes his fingers; Kyungsoo tries not to stare. "We have to sit through all these boring matches until it's our turn." "I heard that," Chanyeol calls out. Kyungsoo just scoffs. Baekhyun becomes quiet company for the rest of the match, only slipping comments when Sehun doesn't bend his knees to receive a heavy ball or when Jongin slides to the right too early, sending the ball straight to the net. Baekhyun had slid closer earlier, thigh almost rubbing against Kyungsoo's. In the heat of the afternoon, sticky skin is inevitable, and Baekhyun did him the favor of moving a few spaces away when Kyungsoo began to play with the hem of his shirt. Summer's just around the corner; there will be a better excuse to ask for more space. "Be more careful next time," Baekhyun says as he holds out a high-five in Sehun's direction. "Bend your knees; you're not that old." "I normally don't have to but, man…" Sehun's voice drifts off. He looks over his shoulder and glances at Yunho. "Sonsaengnim, they're really good. Kinda freaks me out." Chanyeol and Jongdae get up from their seats. Kyungsoo meets Chanyeol in the eye before the two take their positions. "Accuracy over power," he calls out, and Chanyeol offers a small smile before resting his hand on Jongdae's back, ushering Jongdae to the court. "I really hope they lose," Baekhyun mumbles beside him. He hits Baekhyun in his side with his elbow, snorting when Baekhyun wheezes at the contact. Kyungsoo hasn't been watching much of Chanyeol and Jongdae's practice matches recently, but this performance is a huge step up from their usual game. Chanyeol's been hitting cleaner shots, closer to the inside than just grazing the lines, and Jongdae's strokes to the corners are deep and unreturnable. It's a nice and clean sweep, 6-4 6-3, and the pair return to their side of the box with big grins and sweaty backs. Kyungsoo tosses a towel in Chanyeol's direction, and Chanyeol catches it with relative ease. "Jongdae, too," Baekhyun says, offering him another towel, and he doesn't look into Baekhyun's eyes for too long, quickly tearing his gaze to chuck the clean towel in Jongdae's direction. Jongdae catches it with his face. Chanyeol erupts into a shrill peal of laughter. Beside Kyungsoo, Baekhyun is silent, and Kyungsoo tries to fill it in with his soft, almost inaudible laughter. Whimoon defeats Anyang in three straight matches, but the tiebreaker in Zitao's last set could have gone differently had he not managed to extend his arm further to the right to tip the ball over the net just lightly. That cost Anyang a break and gave Whimoon the upper hand, one less point to conquer the match. Zitao aimed a nice kick serve that skid off the court nicely, and Kim Minjung of Anyang just shook his head as he watched the ball bounce off the court. 7-5 7-6, 19-17 in the last game. Zitao was bouncing on the balls of his feet at the end of the match. "So, his rhythm's back," Chanyeol says, voice barely above a whisper. Kyungsoo looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed, and nudges Chanyeol with his elbow. "Took him a while. He hasn't been the same since—" "Since Lu Han left," Kyungsoo finishes. He laughs a little as he slings his bag over his shoulder. A few feet away, Jongdae's still trying to pacify Zitao. "Doubles does that to you, you know — makes you feed off of people like a fucking leech." Chanyeol laughs a little. "Really?" Kyungsoo looks up at him, then fixes his eyes back on his feet. Playing doubles alongside Jihoon had both been one of the best and worst tennis memories of his life. Jihoon was a great player — he knew how to look out for his teammate, how to provide just the ample amount of support to Kyungsoo's well-rounded play. Jihoon stayed near the baseline, eager to fill the holes in Kyungsoo's play, and Kyungsoo was in the front, near the net, grinning as their opponents ran across the court. The first time they played on the same side of the court, Kyungsoo almost hit Jihoon on the head. Jihoon ducked with relative ease. He'd hit Kyungsoo later on the bicep later, though. Kyungsoo couldn't keep still near the net; Jihoon was ready to suffer the repercussions of Kyungsoo's listlessness. "Are you up for a light match? Just you and me," Chanyeol says after a while, just before they shuffle back to the bus. A few spaces behind Chanyeol, Baekhyun's laughing at Zitao's latest joke, or maybe Sehun trying so hard not to express discontent with Zitao's attempts at being funny. Their eyes meet. "Maybe," Kyungsoo says, then moves forward, taking the seat behind the first row. Chanyeol looks at him, eyebrows furrowed slightly, before taking a step back to sit in front. Chanyeol snatches Kyungsoo's tennis bag and planks it on the empty seat next to him. "That wasn't a question," Chanyeol declares. Kyungsoo just shakes his head, the laughter bubbling on his lips slipping right back down his throat when Baekhyun claims the seat beside him, eyes bright. A light match mostly means them hitting easy balls, just practicing their footwork and the basic strokes. Kyungsoo's giving Chanyeol lobs this time, after spotting a bit of a hole in the way Chanyeol hits smashes. "You're dragging your right shoulder down way too much," Kyungsoo calls out just before he hits the ball high, and Chanyeol moves a few steps back, preparing to take the shot. "You notice these little things and yet—" Chanyeol hits a smash right down the line, east of Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo grins. "Nah, never mind." "And yet?" Kyungsoo asks as Chanyeol approaches the net. Chanyeol crouches, reaching for three balls, and just smiles at him in response. "Fix your follow through for the backhand," Chanyeol says before he positions himself behind the service line. The smile on his lips holds meaning; the look in his eyes spells nothing but focus, focus, focus on the match. "You're holding back." Chanyeol doesn't give him the leisure of reading into his stance as he hits a nice kick serve. Kyungsoo slides to his left, quickly gaining his balance again as he receives the ball with an easy straight forehand. Chanyeol returns with a backhand down the line, but Kyungsoo's faster, returning the shot with a crosscourt backhand that speeds to the back of the court. "Old tactic," Chanyeol mumbles as he shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. "Jihoon-hyung taught you that, right?" "Learned it on my own," Kyungsoo replies. He dribbles a ball with his right hand, then holds it in front of him as Chanyeol crouches low. "Late nights in the courts. Polished that back in Germany." "Sure. You don't need help from anyone." Kyungsoo laughs a little. He tosses the ball in the air, slightly to the left, and hits a kick serve. The best thing that happened to Kyungsoo back when he was in Germany has to be getting his ticket to playing tennis again, like finding a lost subway card after searching for it in his bar long and hard. There's also finding strength in his left hand again after favoring his right hand over it for too many years, finally accepting that it isn't so bad being a southpaw. Being different is okay in tennis — it makes you hard to read, unpredictable, but if Kyungsoo digs his memory for any new tricks he's learned in Germany, there really isn't any. Germany is like the calm before the storm. All he had to do then was to report to school online, attend special classes that are mostly of a teacher talking to him through a webcam and him taking advantage of the slight lag to think, submit coursework through an online platform. His life had been contained in Arabellastraße, the confines of the rehabilitation facility. He had the option of contacting Chanyeol and Jongdae and his mother, but it was much easier to stay away — the faintest memory of Korea made the pain in his right arm burn. Korea is the land of beginnings and cliffhangers. In Korea, he found and lost tennis. Tennis found Kyungsoo when he was seven. He'd been playing with the pans in the kitchen then, and a pomelo was conveniently lying around. He could have used the oranges, or the apples, but the color of the pomelo appealed to him more than the others. He'd tossed the fruit in the air, panicked for a moment as he saw it fast approaching, about to hit his face, and in that split-second of helplessness, he'd swung his left arm forward, the metal making contact with the pomelo, and the pomelo landing just a few inches shy of his mother's feet. (The first time his therapist made him hit a tennis ball, he'd shaken so hard that he almost dropped his racket. "I can't do this," he'd said. "Yes, you can. You just have to try hard," the therapist had said. By the end of the session, he'd managed to hit three balls, and the therapist said it was good. He thought himself a miserable man. He probably wouldn't be able to play tennis ever again.) He'd never eaten pomelo ever since. Then there was his book and a crumpled piece of paper, a broom and some of his father's ping pong balls, anything that he could swing and hit — he used them, playing in his room between doing homework and trying not to think about doing homework. His mother had caught him playing with a lemon one time, taking the shot to her gut, and she'd only smiled at Kyungsoo and said, in her most amused voice, "Okay, okay, it's time you put all that swinging into good use." (It had been much easier to play golf with a pencil and an eraser, but then the call of the racket and the ball was hard to resist. Five consecutive sessions after, he'd managed to get through an entire game without dropping his racket.) His summers were lined with one tennis lesson after another. By the time he was eight, he'd already started competing against some of the kids in the open courts. The courts weren't smooth, neither were they kid-friendly, and at the end of each match Kyungsoo would have all these scars on his knees, his legs, sometimes even reaching up to his thighs. His father would laugh at him silly whenever he picked him up after matches, and his mother would attend to his wounds, berate his father for ever agreeing to enlist him in tennis. "You just love it when your son gets into trouble, don't you?" (Kyungsoo had begged for an extra hour of therapy one time, once he'd finally landed a serve on the other side of the court without committing a fault. It was the single, most exhilarating feeling ever. It was both exciting and frightening."You just love pushing yourself, don't you?" his therapist had said, and he'd just smiled at him as he hit one service after another.) The first real competition he'd entered was when he was nine. It was a three-day event, a round-robin challenge. He'd managed to get past the first two opponents with relative ease, sealing his victory at 6-3 and 6-2, but the third opponent proved to be quite the challenger. He was much taller than Kyungsoo, definitely much older, and had a face of a boy you'd never think would be able to hit a fly. He had the backhand of a professional, though, the speed that rivaled that of Guillermo Coria's or Lleyton Hewitt's. He wore the same smile throughout the match, his service completely unreadable. Kyungsoo lost, 5-7. It was the first time he'd tasted defeat, and it was a lot like salt and perspiration and the sweet, honeyed smile on that boy's lips. "What's your name, little boy?" said the challenger. "My mom said I shouldn't talk to strangers." "I just forgot your name; you're supposed to know mine, too." The boy bent his knees so that he was at eye-level with Kyungsoo. He had big eyes, too-pink gums. His teeth were nice and neat for a kid. He was beautiful. "Do Kyungsoo," he finally answered. "And… you are?" The boy laughed a little. "Kim Jihoon." ("Is there anyone you'd want to call?" the therapist asked sometime after, once Kyungsoo had already made a great deal of progress. There is, he wanted to say. There's someone I want to call. I want to tell him that I'm better now, that I don't need him to be a great tennis player. That— The gaze of the therapist bore holes into him; the wounds were deep. He could feel himself bleeding. "No one," he said, instead. He sent an email to Chanyeol and his mother after that, saying, "I'm doing better these days. Hope to be back soon.") Kyungsoo forgot faces, but never movement. The moment he'd seen the same backhand, that sharp service, the same footwork and the twist of the torso, the name spilled from his lips like poison begging to be spit out. "Kim Jihoon," Kyungsoo said, breathless, when he faced Jihoon for a chance to be part of Whimoon High School's tennis team. "You're Kim Jihoon, right?" Jihoon smiled, easy on the corners. "I'm bad with names, but I'm good with faces," Jihoon said, then laughed a little. "And my memory really sucks right now so please, feel free to laugh at me. What's your name again?" "Do Kyungsoo," Kyungsoo replied. Jihoon towered over him just like before, like seven years of not seeing each other on court did very little to change things. Kyungsoo was a grown man already. He had a better service, possessed a one-handed backhand. He'd been playing with his right hand for the past five years. He hadn't been called a 'southpaw' in a long time. ("So, why did you stop playing with your left hand?" "I wish it was easy to explain," Kyungsoo replied. He balled his right fist, then unclenched it. His hand was shaking. It's not like you can tell someone who's has never thought of making tennis the center of his life that the hand chooses the player. You pick up a racket with your hand and, if it doesn't feel right, you switch to your other hand. You look for the right grip, a racket that fits so perfectly in the palm of your hand that you can almost say that it was made for you. And then you hear people saying that playing with your left hand is wrong — it's different, weird. Southpaws always have it easy, what with them getting an advantage court when serving— "I just stopped. It just happened. And now, I don't really have a choice but to play with my left again.") "Cute," Jihoon said. He ruffled Kyungsoo's hair and gave him a pat on the back. "Great game. That service really screwed me up." Kyungsoo stared at Jihoon's outstretched hand, leaned back, then looked up at Jihoon. Joonmyun was calling Jihoon already, and Kris was a towering presence just behind Jihoon. "Great game," Kyungsoo replied, smiling, and took a deep breath as Jihoon squeezed his hand briefly before turning on his heel and waving at Joonmyun. ("Looks like you're good to get back on court." It's not like you have a choice, Kyungsoo wanted to say. You have to return me to Korea now, see if your masterpiece is no longer broken. "Then it's been a really great stay here," he said, instead, and gave his therapist a bright smile. "Thank you so much.") Preparations for the match against Kyunghee have Yunho asking the regulars to play longer and practice harder. Sehun and Jongin occupy court number three against Chanyeol and Jongdae, trying to come up with a new formation that will confuse the opponent as much as it confuses them. Taemin is Zitao's choice of a practice buddy — Taemin's shots pack just enough power and accuracy to have Zitao running around, quick on his feet. Kyungsoo shuffles to court number one as soon as he arrives after his advanced Physics class, Baekhyun trailing him, shoulders hunched. "Don't tell me you're playing against me again," Kyungsoo mumbles when he looks over his shoulder. Baekhyun's already at the other side of the court, bouncing on his feet as he gets his legs warmed up. There's a big grin on Baekhyun's lips when he finally looks up and starts stretching his arms, and Kyungsoo's stomach lurches, a sharp, tangy flavor catching at the back of his throat. "Just between you and me," Baekhyun begins. He moves closer to the net as if to whisper, but snickers before he continues, "I think you're the only one who's at my level." Kyungsoo clenches his fists. "Go find another man to play with. Or have fun with, I don't know." He waves him off with a hand. He gulps hard. "I'm not interested." "I'm here to play tennis, not eat you up—" "Yeah," Kyungsoo retorts. He's caught between snorting and snarling and just plain shutting up, but his lips are hot, inconsolable. "Because you'll blow me." "Grow the fuck up!" Baekhyun's racket falls to the ground. His hands are balled into fists, and he's shaking all over — and Kyungsoo is, too, but he's much too far from the net for Baekhyun to catch that. He presses his lips in a thin line as he clenches his fists all the more, nails digging into his skin, and the clawing pain on his skin, in his stomach, his chest, is nothing compared to the fire burning in Baekhyun's eyes, the way Baekhyun's lips burn a bright red when he bites too hard, the hint of blood on the surface. "Get over yourself, Kyungsoo," Baekhyun manages after a while. There's the faint sound of Chanyeol saying hey, what's going on? in the background, the loud thumping in Kyungsoo's chest. "Now get behind the baseline and face me like a real man." A real man. Kyungsoo scoffs but follows, anyway. When he turns around to bend low in preparation for Baekhyun's serve, he feels his right hand go numb — at the cool wind blowing or Baekhyun's sharp gaze, he can't tell. Baekhyun tosses the ball in the air, straight up. Kyungsoo follows the movement of his arms with his eyes and he takes a step to the right, arm stretched out to return Baekhyun's serve. The ball falls short, hits well outside of the service box. "Fault!" comes the linesman's call and, from the corner of Kyungsoo's eye, he can see Baekhyun shaking his head, can see the defeated fall of his shoulders, the way he drags his feet back to the service box. The way his fingers release the ball slowly, movements measured and calculated and lacking life. "Focus," he calls out to Baekhyun. Baekhyun tosses the ball again, this time slightly to the left, and Kyungsoo's feet move on instinct — to the left — responding to the movement of Baekhyun's body, two souls meeting again on court for the first time in so long. "Shit." Sehun rests his forehead on the back of his hand. The muscles of his thighs tighten as Yunho slowly extends his right arm, and a small yelp escapes Sehun's lips. "No way am I letting you play with an arm like this," Yunho says, voice soft and low. "Have you been holding your grip too loose again?" Jongin nods, and Sehun just shoots him a glare. "That, and, well, we've been playing more matches than the usual lately—" "I said work hard, not overwork yourselves." Yunho shakes his head. "C'mon, get up, let's get you to a hospital." Jongin slings Sehun's left arm around his shoulder and helps Sehun get up. Yunho mumbles something about redoing the match assignments, looks over his shoulder before heading off with Jongin and Sehun. "Chanyeol, I trust your judgment in rearranging the players. Heck, you might even know their play better than I do." Chanyeol nods and ushers Jongdae to the locker rooms, but glances over his shoulder before disappearing behind the door. Kyungsoo catches his gaze. His breath hitches, then regains its old momentum. Quick reflexes, probably the best thing about you, next to your serve, Kyungsoo remembers Yunho telling him when he qualified for a position as a regular. Kyungsoo hadn't figured out what Yunho meant then, until he was made to team up with Jihoon against Kris and Joonmyun. They won in two sets. "I hope I don't get bumped down to doubles," Baekhyun mumbles. Kyungsoo nudges him in his side. The image of a Sehun wincing in pain burns at the back of his eyelids. "Sorry," he whispers, then returns to the courts to do some laps. Chanyeol calls for them again after twenty minutes, a clipboard propped under his right arm and Jongdae's hand flat on his shoulder. "There will be a lot of changes," Chanyeol begins. Jongdae gestures for Kyungsoo and Baekhyun to take a seat. "And you'll probably hate me for them." Baekhyun shrugs. "I know I have experience in doubles but that was years ago! And no way in hell am I teaming up with Jongin or Taemin." Baekhyun shakes his head. "Nope, not my style. Sorry. You have to find someone else." Jongade's soft laughter stills the atmosphere for a few seconds. "Well, that's going to be a problem." "What do you mean?" "You see—" Jondgae snatches the clipboard from Chanyeol, and Chanyeol almost jumps at the sudden action, the sharp edges of the objects scoring his shirt. "You two are the only ones who have experience in doubles—" "Zitao can do it." "Zitao can definitely do it," Kyungsoo repeats, voice a few notches higher. "And Zitao takes too long to adjust to change. You two are veterans in the sport already, and while our track record in doubles isn't that bad, the quality of the game we've been producing has dropped considerably in the past months." Baekhyun laughs a little. "I'm telling you, it's the extra hours of training—" "What he's trying to say is that we're putting you two in doubles," Chanyeol says all in one breath. "As in, the same doubles team. Kyungsoo and Baekhyun, doubles two. How does that sound?" Fucked up, Kyungsoo wants to say. Chanyeol's eyes crinkle at the corners, and no way in hell is Kyungsoo falling for this trick shot — Chanyeol feigning amusement so miserably, it almost makes him want to throw up. Those twelve months in Germany weren't spent just recovering from the strain of playing too much tennis or taking a heavy swing to the elbow; he'd only spent a third of those getting back on track, the remaining trying to convince himself that things will go back to normal, back to the way they were. He'd return to Seoul with as much passion for tennis as before, maybe less fear and apprehension. A year later and all he's ever achieved is a healed right elbow and a stronger, more capable left arm. Maybe even a serve even the best amateur players can only dream of. "Terrible," they chime at the same time. Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows, and Kyungsoo tears his gaze faster than he can clench his fists again. "Awful. A really bad decision. Stop copying me, goddamit!" Jongdae snorts. There's a familiar tug on the curve of the lip. "Well, that's cute. They're arguing like a—" "— Real doubles team," Chanyeol finishes. He ruffles Jongdae's hair and pulls Jongdae close for — a departure from the courts, to retreat to the locker rooms for a second time? For a one-armed hug much less disarming than a full embrace? Kyungsoo swallows hard, Chanyeol's big grin making him squint. Too bright, too happy. Too much of everything Kyungsoo doesn't need. "Light practice for thirty minutes!" Chanyeol calls out before he and Jongdae head to the courts. Beside Kyungsoo, Baekhyun buries his face in his hands. "I think I'm going to hate you," Baekhyun says, earnest. Kyungsoo tries hard not to laugh; misery isn't funny even if it paints Baekhyun an interesting shade of red. Kyungsoo stands, dusts himself off, gets back on his feet, He wiggles his toes. He'll put extra chili in Chanyeol's ramyun and spike the liquid in his water bottle with soju or something. He'll make Chanyeol pay for his crimes, but first he reaches for his racket and hits Baekhyun lightly on the ass when Baekhyun stops right in the middle of the passageway to the other side of the court. "Well, what do you know. Something we agree on." Kyungsoo snorts. He doesn't address Baekhyun's giggle. "I think I'm going to hate you, too." In their few minutes as doubles partners, Kyungsoo only ever manages to convince Baekhyun that it's not wise to hit your partner while he's heading to the opposite side of the court. It was funny the first few times, but when Baekhyun started hitting heavier balls and aiming some shots at Kyungsoo's butt, it had become increasingly annoying. "Let's see you deal with a swollen ass," Kyungsoo says now, snarling, and Baekhyun only laughs at him for a good whole minute, beads of tears at the corners of his eyes by the time he composes himself again. "Finally made you smile again," Baekhyun says, breathing even. There's a hiccup at the end of the sentence, and Baekhyun quickly clasps a hand over his mouth. Kyungsoo simply rolls his eyes and hits Baekhyun on the butt with his racket. "Come on, kid. Chanyeol's gonna kick us out if we extend practice." "By hitting us on the ass?" Baekhyun's lips are brimming with laughter again; Kyungsoo can't say he doesn't feel the same. He shakes his head before Baekhyun can say anything, and Baekhyun ends up in a fit of laughter, face buried in the slope between Kyungsoo's shoulders. The vibrations tickle his skin. Doubles makes Baekhyun look like an eight-year-old kid running around with no particular aim in mind. He chases balls well beyond his reach, crosses paths with Kyungsoo all too often that their game is half trying not to step on each other's feet and half actually trying to get the ball to the other side of the court. Give Baekhyun the leisure of focusing on his own play, then fill the holes in his game — that's the best strategy to go with at the moment, but they're playing for the nationals. You can't just step on court and hope for the best, hope your doubles partner doesn't screw up. Hope your body moves in accord with his so that you can pull off a good enough doubles strategy. It's taken Kyungsoo more than a month to get used being alone on court; two months to get accustomed to having someone playing behind him, running around and filling the holes in the play. Because really, how can you trust someone to work with you if you can't even trust yourself? How can you trust someone to put his own game at stake for the sake of yours, to pick up after you, to cover your back? How can he when the only rules Baekhyun recognizes are those involving the boundaries of the court? You don't just play for less than an hour and magically strike up chemistry with that person. Real tennis doesn't work that way. "There's probably an article on doubles strategies online," Baekhyun says. He locks his arms behind his back, crosses them at the back of his head. "But they're in English. Think you can help me go through them?" Kyungsoo looks at Baekhyun for a while, studies his form, the quirk of the lip. The tone of Baekhyun's voice says please, please, please, let's make this work out; the look in his eyes, think you can make me literate enough in English to understand a whole page of English words? Baekhyun is all about challenges and pushing limits, embracing them — this, the new arrangement, is both. Baekhyun is thrilled to the point of being excited; Kyungsoo can feel tiny explosions at the tips of his fingers. "We can do two hours of English reading…" Kyungsoo says after a while. He scrunches his nose. "If you're up to it." Baekhyun laughs a little. "You want to spend two hours with me?" Kyungsoo narrows his eyes at Baekhyun — more like squints, because now he's tasked to study Baekhyun more carefully than ever. Little loopholes are the things Kyungsoo must look out for; on court, they can be traitors to a good game. "I have to spend two hours with you," he replies, then quickens his pace, walking ahead of Baekhyun so that he won't have to address Baekhyun's laughter. He looks over his shoulder and smiles to himself. Doubles is a duty; Baekhyun is his responsibility. Bucheon is unusually quiet at eight in the evening, but maybe it's because they've been weaving through narrow walkways and alleys for the past ten minutes as they navigate to Baekhyun's house. Kyungsoo expects a lively household, maybe three other siblings and a doting mother, an overly concerned father, but what greets him is the sight of an old lady standing by the doorstep, a small, impossible smile on her lips as she says, "Late again, Baekhyunnie?" "Halmeoni," Baekhyun says, a thick layer of — something akin to embarrassment? Feeling small? Kyungsoo can't quite pinpoint it yet. He watches as Baekhyun takes his grandmother in his arms and mumbles something in her ear that sounds a lot like, Shouldn't you be sleeping now? You should be resting, halmeoni. What did I tell you about straining yourself? All Baekhyun ever gets in response is shy laughter and a light punch on the arm — definitely a Byun trait — then a small smile, rough at the corners. "Oh, and who is this boy you're with?" Baekhyun's grandmother asks. Kyungsoo takes a step forward and bows at her, smile intact when he snaps back up. "Ah, this is Kyungsoo. He's my classmate and teammate in the tennis team." "Oh, I'm sure a lot of girls are having fun watching your matches..." she teases, then turns on her heel even before Baekhyun can widen his eyes at her. Another lady welcomes them — a younger one, this time, someone Baekhyun introduces as his grandmother's personal nurse. "She stays here in the house on weekdays. On weekends, it's my turn to look after halmeoni, so if Chanyeol ever schedules any practices—" "Inevitable, you know," Kyungsoo replies quickly, and offers a soft smile to Baekhyun's grandmother when she looks over her shoulder. "It's tournament season. And we're playing for the nationals. We promise to finish practicing early, though!" Kyungsoo calls out after her, and she flashes him a thumbs up and blows a kiss in his direction soon after. Baekhyun excuses himself once they get inside, only resurfacing from time to time to get his grandmother a glass of water or to soak a hand towel. There's a perfunctory smile on his lips as he moves from one place to the other, not a single complaint escaping from his lips. Kyungsoo looks around him in the dining room, English textbooks and readings forgotten on the table. There's a collection of tea cups and pots near the stove, cute, little figurines lined along the counter. And Ovaltinies in a jar. Kyungsoo snorts. What a kid. "Hey, sorry," Baekhyun says, plopping on the seat beside Kyungsoo's as soon as he returns. "Finally convinced her to go to bed. She's stubborn, really, sometimes even more hard-headed than I am." "She's charming," Kyungsoo confesses. "Very Byun-like." "What is that even supposed to mean?" Kyungsoo to his side and snorts. Baekhyun's got a glimmer in his eyes, like hours upon hours of tennis practice have done nothing to wear him out. Two hours of English hagwon, Kyungsoo tells himself. Baekhyun can definitely handle two more hours of studying English under the guise of having dinner while having English singing lessons. It can't be that hard. "It means that we should start studying soon," he replies then shrugs, reaching over to grab one of Baekhyun's English textbook and scan the pages. Baekhyun laughs a little before standing from his seat and grabbing food from the fridge. From the corner of his eye, Kyungsoo watches Baekhyun. "It's kinda weird not having Jongdae on the same side of the court." Kyungsoo sort of snorts, laughter lodged somewhere in his throat. "He just went to the bathroom, you know," he says, still giggling as he takes a slice of his kimchi. Baekhyun reaches over to steal some of his food, and he quickly intercepts Baekhyun's chopsticks with his own. "Out, out, this isn't your side of the court. Get lost." "But we're playing on the same side now," Baekhyun says. There's a peculiar glint in his eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Aren't we, partner?" Chanyeol cackles. Kyungsoo scrunches his nose, then lays his chopsticks down on the cover of his food container. Partner. The first time Yunho saw them on the same side of the court, he laughed for an entire minute, mumbling something about miracles and dreams coming true and what the fuck— oh shit, pardon the language. When Jongin learned about it, he'd excused himself to grab some water. Zitao laughed at them silly without warning, voice reaching even the farthest of courts, abruptly cutting short Chanyeol and Jongdae's practice session. Kyungsoo had rolled his eyes and told Baekhyun to just serve the goddamned ball. Baekhyun made an exhibition of that match, and Kyungsoo stuck his tongue out at Baekhyun at the end of the last set. "You're dragging your left foot when you move to the right," was the best Kyungsoo could come up with, and Baekhyun slid an arm around Kyungsoo's shoulder, relaxed and easy, the hot press of their sides oddly comforting. "I've got to crack that one, the spacing out thing." Kyungsoo blinks a few times, a violent breath of life filling his lungs. Jongdae has rejoined them, laying his tray with food he'd picked up on his way back down on the table, then takes the seat beside Chanyeol's. Chanyeol's grinning at Kyungso, canines peeking. "No need to," Kyungsoo mumbles in response. He elbows Baekhyun in his side and earns a yelp, and he keeps his eyes fixed on his food in an attempt to not think of Baekhyun's pain. Three hours of practice dissolve into just a slightly perfected routine at the very end. The first time they get through a set without stepping on each other's feet or running into each other, Jongdae applauds them and pretends to wipe a tear away. Baekhyun brushes Jongdae off with a wave of a hand and a clean kick serve, one that Jongdae just barely eludes. Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder, meaning to give Baekhyun a thumbs up, but he ends up with a numb arm, fingers equally numb. Baekhyun is grinning at him as if asking, did I do well? Did I blow you away? Did I, Kyungsoo? Baekhyun serves another kick serve, and Jongdae finally returns it with a forehand down the line. Baekhyun hits it with a forehand to Chanyeol's left, and Chanyeol counters with a backhand drop shot. "I've got this!" Kyungsoo says, sliding to the front to catch the ball, then flicks his wrist with just enough power to send to the other side. The ball grazes the net and rolls down it. Jongdae looks at the ball, then up at Kyungsoo. He doesn't fight the grin creeping to his lips when Jongdae shakes his head. "What the hell?" "That, my dear friends, is real doubles," Baekhyun says, walking over to where Kyungsoo is. He rests a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder and squeezes it briefly. "Right?" Defense mechanism tells him to shrug it off and to tell Baekhyun to get back to his side of the court; a voice at the back of his head says, you don't have to counter all the time, you know. "Yeah," he simply says in response, but it's enough to earn a smile from Baekhyun and a light pat on the ass. "Don't stretch it," Kyungsoo mumbles. On the other side of the court, Chanyeol and Jongdae laugh. Baekhyun is still smiling. Jongdae cons Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and Kyungsoo into dropping by the food cart just across the school before heading home. It's not out of the way, but fatigue has its arms wrapped around Kyungsoo like a quilt and Kyungsoo just wants to see his bed again, crash then wake up at two in the morning to study the chapters to be discussed in class the following day. "It'll be fun!" Jongdae says as he drags Kyungsoo by the wrist. Chanyeol has his hands on Baekhyun's shoulders, pushing him forward, and Baekhyun's face is void of any trace of a smile. "Oh, you brought friends?" says the vendor. He takes a small, paper tray, pours a generous amount of tteokbokki in it, then adds a few slices of yellow radish on the side. "I remember what you said before about yellow radish going well with tteokbokki. I tried it, and people have been flocking the cart ever since!" The corners of Kyungsoo's lips tug up slowly, awkward around the edges. Baekhyun's giggling. "Uh, thank you?" "No, son," the vendor replies. He takes Kyungsoo's hand and places the tray on Kyungsoo's palm; Kyungsoo tries really hard not to wince at the sudden surge of heat. "Thank you." "But I'm the one who brought him here, haraboji," Baekhyun retorts playfully, and the old man chuckles. Jongdae pokes at the tteok a few times as he slides beside Kyungsoo who has already eaten all the strips of yellow radish. "So, you two come here often?" "We get hungry a lot after practice." "I mean," Jongdae says, pausing to chew the tteok. "Just the two of you. Alone." Kyungsoo snorts. "You make it sound like it's a bad thing. I mean—" "I mean it's nice, you know, that's you're making friends," Jongdae finishes, smiling at Kyungsoo as he holds up a slice of tteok. "That you're back in the swing of things," Jongdae adds. Kyungsoo knows better than to trust the curl of Jongdae's lips, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiles, everything that Jongdae is, so he keeps the shields up — maintains a safe distance from Jongdae for fear of falling prey to any of Jongdae's traps — but instead he bumps into Baekhyun, a yelp escaping Baekhyun's lips as he accidentally spews out some of the gochujang. "Save the tteok!" Chanyeol yells. Jongdae makes wailing sounds for effect. Baekhyun turns around, facing him with narrowed eyes and a smirk at the corner of his mouth. Kyungsoo leans back, eyebrow raised. "What are you gonna do?" Kyungsoo asks, teasing, and Baekhyun takes a smidgen of the gochujang, wipes his thumb on Kyungsoo's cheek, down to the right corner of Kyungsoo's lips. "Payback," Baekhyun says, then licks the remnants of the sauce off his thumb. Kyungsoo wipes the mess away with the back of his hand, eyes still nailed to the back of Baekhyun's head. Kyungsoo takes a few steps forward and surveys the court. It hasn't felt this big in years, hasn't been so intimidating and daunting. There's the net just a few meters away but it feels like there's a whole stretch of road to be crossed until he gets there to tip a ball over, to execute a well-timed drop shot. He takes a deep breath and tightens his grip on his racket. His fingers are cold and numb; there's a tinge of pain in his right elbow. "You alright?" Baekhyun asks. Kyungsoo looks at him, just stares, until Baekhyun cups his face, palms warm against his skin. "Hey, look at me. We'll do fine. Just relax," Baekhyun says — once, twice, until it becomes much less of a warning to Kyungsoo. "We'll get through this, trust me," he finishes. Kyungsoo remembers the feeling of Jihoon's hands on his skin — one hand bracing his neck, the other traveling south, all the way down to his torso. "Look at me, Kyungsoo. You don't have to be afraid. It's just you and me now," he can still hear Jihoon saying, can hear Jihoon whispering in his ear or on his skin, warm lips pressed on his shoulder. Jihoon's voice cuts through the loud crash of the water against the tiles. Jihoon— Kyungsoo swats one of Baekhyun's hands away, and Baekhyun takes a step back, eyebrows furrowed. "Sorry, I—" Kyungsoo shakes his head a little and mumbles another apology before approaching the net for the coin toss. "Don't choke," Baekhyun whispers in his ear as they wait for the other pair to get on the court. Their shoulders bump. Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. Kyunghee takes the opening service game, but not without a few hiccups. Baekhyun manages to aim a nice, clean forehand at the far right corner of the doubles court, but Kyunghee counters with a heavy backhand. Kyungsoo manages to catch the ball in time and hits a backhand to the opposite corner, one that Kyunghee's player at the baseline narrowly misses, swinging a bit too late. The ball hits the net where it's the highest, and there's a triumphant smile on Baekhyun's lips when Kyungsoo turns around to give him a thumbs up. Sweat, victory, and sunshine look good on Baekhyun. Each pair counters at the slightest sign of a break of serve, and they reach 5-5 in a little over an hour. Kyunghee calls for a medical time out to address the net player's cramps, and Baekhyun simply snorts as he uncaps his bottle of water. "Weak," Bakehyun mumbles, and Kyungsoo kind of snorts, kind of laughs at him because Baekhyun had been in a similar situation weeks ago when he was complaining about weak thighs and poor stamina. "I wouldn't call him that, if I were you," Kyungsoo says. "It's like telling yourself that—" "Whatever. Just… don't do that thing you do. Don't be weird." Baekhyun turns to his right, body now facing Kyungsoo. He rests a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder. "We're gonna win the next two games, but I need you not to choke," he says, voice lighter, still thin and reedy from all the running across the court, syllables spaced out unevenly, like he's singing a love song he can't figure out the tune of instead of saying, Don't you dare screw up, Kyungsoo. You can't screw up now. He doesn't press further, nor does he hold Kyungsoo longer, finally letting his hand fall to his side, and Kyungsoo simply shrugs in response. Baekhyun's words ring brightly in Kyungsoo's ear. He answers, "Yeah," long after the topic has ceased to be relevant. Baekhyun turns on his feel, bright smile on his lips, bright eyes burning with determination, a bounce in his step as he heads to the baseline. Kyungsoo tosses the ball in the air slightly to the left, and serves. And then again, and again. Baekhyun aims a clean cross-court backhand that lands right on the line. 6-5 is easier than most people make it seem; the difficult part is actually convincing yourself that you deserve to win. Baekhyun curses under his breath when the last set of the match stretches past 6-5 and into 6-6. "Why are they good?" he soon admits but keeps his voice barely audible, still. Baekhyun crouches low for a while, then bounces back on his feet. He locks his arms behind his back and cracks his neck — there's a small patch of skin burning a bright shade of red. Kyungsoo makes a mental note to address it later. "Baekhyun, can you take the net?" Kyungsoo says. Baekhyun looks at his, eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted, like Kyungsoo's asking him to jump off a cliff. "I said, take the net. I'll explain to you later. I'll take the baseline." "You know I suck at net play," Baekhyun grumbles. Kyungsoo offers a small smile. "But they don't." He hits Baekhyun on the ass with his racket. "Come on, time for you to take center stage. Make me proud." Trust me, he means to say, but Baekhyun has already turned on his heel even before Kyungsoo can say more. Fuck you, Baekhyun mouths in response one he's positioned himself near the net, and Kyungsoo puts on his best, most assuring smile, wearing it up until he has to call the attention of the ball boy behind him to ask for tennis balls. Seven chances to win this match. No room to make mistakes. The first two points are easy wins, but the succeeding ones prove to be a challenge. Baekhyun manages to score a break against Kyunghee, returning a smash with a backhand drive to the back, just on the doubles line. Kyunghee roars back with a service ace down the line, then a break of their own with a drop shot that Baekhyun almost catches. Don't choke— Baekhyun's voice rings in his ears, and he tosses the ball in the air, ball grazing the net on the first serve, but the second service lands on the court perfectly and curves out nicely to the left. Baekhyun meets Kyungsoo halfway through, the heads of their rackets clashing as they pass each other. "I'm serving to the backhand," Baekhyun whispers before they pull away. Don't choke. Kyungsoo shuffles to the front of the court, crouched low, grinning. He hears the faintest sound of Baekhyun's laughter before the sound of ball making contact with the strings takes over. He hears footsteps, Baekhyun's heavy breathing, the opponents scuttling on the other side of the court. Kyunghee returns with a backhand, and Kyungsoo aims a forehand straight to the back of the court. He can feel a tingling sensation in the tips of his fingers. Two points to go. He looks over his shoulder and furrows his eyebrows slightly. Baekhyun's leaning forward more than the usual, and his shoulders are more open when he releases the ball. Unbelievable, Kyungsoo says to himself as he shifts his gaze to his opponents. He waits for the sound of the ball hitting the sweet spot, waits for Baekhyun to land back on both feet, for the ball to speed past him and straight to the other side of the court, ball bouncing to the left side and out of the court even before the opponent can hit it back. "Yes!" he hears Baekhyun exclaim, and he straightens his spine, stretches his legs, walks over to where Baekhyun is to give him a high five. "Swing more from the left next time for the extra kick," Kyungsoo whispers, and Baekhyun pulls away with light laughter, a soft smile tugging his lips up. Kyunghee double faults and gives the last point to Whimoon, 7-5 7-6(5). The sound of people cheering is drowned out when Baekhyun drops his racket to the ground, when Baekhyun takes Kyungsoo in his arms and says, again and again, "We did it, we did it, oh my God, we actually did it!" Kyungsoo buries his face in the crook of Baekhyun's neck, light pats on the back in tandem with his breathing. "We did, Baekhyun," he whispers. He doesn't fight back the smile making its way to his lips. "We did." Yunho lets them off the hook for the next three days, but Baekhyun drags Kyungsoo to the courts, anyway, for a bit of light practice. "Just to familiarize ourselves with each other's movements," Baekhyun says, fingers wound tightly around Kyungsoo's wrist as they run out to the courts, bags slung over their shoulders. Chanyeol and Jongdae follow, taking a leisurely walk, and Kyungsoo doesn't even attempt to look over his shoulder so he won't have to address the look on Chanyeol's face. "Ready?" Chanyeol asks from the other side of the court. after they warm up. Jongdae's teeth gleam under the afternoon sun. Kyungsoo keeps his eyes fixed on their legs, their torsos, the way they move with each other on court. He nods, and Chanyeol tosses the ball in the air. Nice, clean slice serve down the middle, Kyungsoo predicts. Baekhyun's backhand can handle that. If Baekhyun slips up, he can cover with a nice, easy forehand to Jongdae's back, just before Jongdae approaches the net. Jongdae hates passing shots even if he uses them to win points half the time. "Ready," he mumbles. He can hear the faint sound of Baekhyun's rubber shoes screeching just behind him. He tightens his grip on his racket. They run into the Australian formation by accident, during a long rally between Baekhyun and Chanyeol. Kyungsoo alternates between moving closer to the T when Chanyeol takes a shot, aiming it to Baehyun's backhand, and moving away when it's Baekhyun's turn to counter. He intercepts with a volley straight to Jongdae's feet, and Jongdae erupts into this weird sort of laughter, shrill and loud, making Baekhyun drop his racket and yell, "Dirty tactics! I'm calling it!" "Dude, you totally pulled of the Australian formation!" Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. "We… did? I wasn't—" He looks over his shoulder. Baekhyun still has his hands clasped over his ears, wailing in mock pain. "Was he on the same side?" "I know it when I see it, Soo," Chanyeol affirms. "I think your body was moving on its own, just like—" "Good, then," Kyungsoo interjects. He walks over to where Baekhyun is and hits him on the ass lightly, applying just enough power on the flick of the wrist to make Baekhyun yelp. "Hey, get up. Do that thing you did earlier and let's see if we pull off the same technique without a hitch." Baekhyun looks at him, wide-eyed, a teeth-baring smile on his lips. "You trust me to do it again?" Kyungsoo shrugs. "I guess." Baekhyun laughs a little before heading back to the baseline, bouncing the ball in sync with his steps. "I won't let you down!" Baekhyun calls out, and Kyungsoo bites the inside of his cheek on reflex, fixes his eyes on the ugly markings on Jongdae's tennis shoes to keep himself from smiling, grinning, laughing all the way. When he looks up, Jongdae meets his gaze, smirking. Chanyeol's steady forehands straight across the court set Kyungsoo back in rhythm, like falling back into old habit — playing tennis dangerously close to the net, with a looming yet soothing presence just beyond his shoulder, ready to fill the gaps in his play. Sehun returns to the courts with a sling over his shoulder and the corners of his lips pulled all the way down. "I hate to break it to you, but the team will have to suffer without my greatness to pull you guys through," Sehun says, and Jongin fakes a sob but slides a hand across Sehun's back, gentle on the skin when he rubs slow circles on Sehun's shoulder. "I'll make you proud, maknae," Baekhyun says, eyes closed as he nods dramatically and pokes Sehun's tummy. "Or at least I'll try not to screw up." Sehun snorts. "I have faith in Kyungsoo-hyung. You, however…" Baekhyun raises an eyebrow at him, then looks at Yunho. "Coach, can I maim him? Injure him completely? Tickle him until he gets a tickle injury or something?" Yunho waves him off with a hand and turns on his heel. Kyungsoo just shakes his head and pulls Jongin to one side of the court. "Don't think we don't notice," he whispers in Jongin's ear, and the lines on Jongin's forehead ease, a tiny, tiny smile tugging at the corners of Jongin's lips. Baekhyun's still going on about declaring war against Sehun but hasn't really taken action to carry out his plans. All talk and no action, reckless and unhibited — Baekhyun in a nutshell, but only on the outside. Dig deeper and you'll find out he actually wants to grow at least three more centimeters, that he actually likes singing Christina Aguilera songs in the showers, and that he pushes himself even harder than he pushes other people. Express interest in grabbing a snack, though, and he'd drop his racket all at once, then pick it up after slowly bending his knees, eyes fixed on you, asking, your treat, right? "It's been hard," Jongin replies. He exhales loudly but keeps the small smile on his lips. "But hey, I'll manage. Singles isn't so bad." "It's different," Kyungsoo says. Sehun's grabbing Baekhyun by the collar of his shirt now, playfully jabbing at his arm. He can make out some of the words Sehun is saying — tiny hyung, gonna kick your ass someday, looking great with Kyungsoo-hyung, though. "Refreshing. Like lime juice or something." "Really bad comparison, hyung." Jongin chuckles. "But hey, don't worry. I'm good. I just probably won't—" "Play doubles until Sehun recovers?" Kyungsoo laughs a little. "I know where you're coming from." Jongin's attention has shifted to Baekhyun attempting twist one of Sehun's nipples through his shirt, and Sehun kneeing Baekhyun in the thigh. "Hey, hey! You two—" Jongin dashes to the scene as quickly as he can, pulling the two apart, and Chanyeol slides beside Kyungsoo, taking the vacated place and resting a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder. "Words of wisdom from the exo-doubles turned ex-singles player?" Chanyeol asks. His eyes are fixed on the scene in front of them; he drums his fingers on Kyungsoo's shoulder. "Who ever said I wasn't going back to playing singles?" Chanyeol looks at Kyungsoo, holding him from an arm's length, and laughs at him lightly, like there's a foam of something funny flaunted on his cheek. "Yeah, you're adaptable," Chanyeol simply says, ruffling Kyungsoo's hair to punctuate his statement. Kyungsoo doesn't push him away, but he doesn't lean into the touch. Baekhyun's gaze from meters away pins him down to his spot like a nail to a slab of wood, leaving a gash, leaving a mark. English hagwon extends for another hour, but only because Baekhyun insists to look up articles on doubles strategies in English. Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows, eye squinting as he moves closer to the monitor of his computer, index finger tracing lines in the air. "I don't get this bit about poaching. What the hell is poaching?" he asks and Kyungsoo just leans back, head hung low in an effort to shield the grin on his lips from Baekhyun's view. "What? I was a one-hit doubles wonder. I don't even know why Jongdae thought our team up was a good idea," Baekhyun says, grumbling. He sinks in his chair, shoulder bumping against Kyungsoo's lightly. Kyungsoo feels a surge of electricity through his left arm, but there's a stinging pain in his right elbow. Baekhyun hasn't stopped moving in his seat, like a cat looking for the most comfortable sleeping position. "Fine, I wasn't a one-hit wonder. I played doubles in the open courts, but I just winged those matches! I don't even know where the kids I teamed up with back then are now." Kyungsoo snorts. "Do you do that all the time? Do things and just hope they work out somehow?" Baekhyun looks at him, the same expression still on his features, save for the small smile tugging up the corners of his lips. "I do things and do them to the best of my ability, then hope for the best," he replies, shrugging as he ends. "I don't know… I mean, if I keep thinking things through too much, I end up confused and troubled, like I don't really know what I want. Sure, I prepare for exams or matches or whatever, but practice can only do so much? Not everything you've studied appears in an exam, after all, or everything you've practiced for a tournament, all the techniques and shit — sometimes you just have to go with your gut feel." Kyungsoo laughs a little. "Sounds pretty optimistic." "Hey, at least I'm not a walking ball of negativity." Baekhyun rubs the tip of his nose and folds his legs, sitting on them as he turns to his side to face Kyungsoo. "Doesn't that wear you out? Man, negative vibes drain the shit out of me. You should try wearing a happy cap from time to time. Although I'm not sure how you feel about flat hair…" Baekhyun wiggles his fingers in the air and Kyungsoo just laughs, sinking further in his seat. He imagines Baekhyun with this ridiculous happy cap that looks like a poor imitation of a Santa Hat or maybe something akin to a Wimbledon trophy, except made of cloth. He won't have flat hair, and he doesn't really mind, but sometimes the thought of drowning out the outside noise when he slips his ears in the cap can be daunting, like he's missing out on something, purposely leaving an opening for opponents to capitalize on, leaving himself slightly vulnerable. Baekhyun grins at him, the corners of his mouth turned upward in a boxy smile, and he sees nothing but courage and fearlessness — recklessness. Something he isn't and can never be. "My hair never goes flat," Kyungsoo answers after a while. He sits on his hands and swings his legs forward — wrong footwork, bad form. Yunho will call him out on this; Chanyeol will laugh at him for it. Baekhyun reaches out and cards his fingers through Kyungsoo's hair. Kyungsoo only responds with a sharp look, furrowed eyebrows, a slight tilt of the head. Baekhyun's presses his lips together. If he smiles any wider, it'll rip through the corners. "Maybe it's time you wore it flat," Baekhyun says. He massages Kyungsoo's scalp a little; it's incredibly soothing. "It would look good on you, I'm pretty certain." They arrive at the Kolon Sporex Center earlier than expected, more than an hour too early before the match with Hanyoung High School starts. The holding area is comfortable enough to stay in and house a team of ten, and Yunho has gone around and distributed these weird snack bars that Jongdae has come up with. "I really wouldn't trust—" Jongdae cuts Chanyeol off even before he can finish, shoving the bar in Chanyeol's mouth, and Chanyeol keeps the smile on his lips despite the furrow of his eyebrows (and the beads of tears at the corners of his eyes). "They're…" Baekhyun looks over his shoulder, then grins at Jongdae when he continues, "different." Jongdae quickly comes over, trapping Baekhyun in a headlock. Kyungsoo waves off Baekhyun's calls for help and excuses himself to grab something to drink. There are buses lined just outside the center, and people of all ages have begun to flock the stores just outside the courts. Kyungsoo makes his way to the nearest convenience store, and an arm cuts right through his path just as he reaches for the handle of the door to push the door open. "Fancy seeing you here," comes a familiar voice from behind. Kyungsoo looks up, disoriented, eyes widening as the features of the stranger come into focus — dark hair worn up until the base of the ears, bangs falling over the left eye, a small scar just a few spaces shy of the left corner of the mouth. A mole under the right eye. A toothy grin. Acid surging up Kyungsoo's throat, leaving a nasty scar. A strong swing to his right elbow, a sharp crack! in tandem with the pain in his right arm. He clenches and unclenches his fists. "Jihoon… hyung." Jihoon leans back a little, chuckling at the honorific. "I thought we've long dropped that," he says, then reaches out to ruffle Kyungsoo's hair. Kyungsoo cocks his head in the opposite direction and takes a step back. "Oh, wow, you used to love it when I did that." "Used to," Kyungsoo mumbles. Some students pass them by — three little boys, the smallest of the three clutching onto the hem of the shirt of the one in front of him. Don't do it, kid. Don't give in, Kyungsoo wants to say. He blinks back the needed distraction, turning his attention back on Jihoon. "I thought you were done with tennis." "I changed my mind," Jihoon replies. He slides a hand up Kyungsoo's right arm, squeezing a little just before he reaches the elbow. "So how's this arm right here? Does it still hurt?" "You have the nerve to feign concern—" "I'm not faking anything." Jihoon cackles, laughter cracking as it peaks. Kyungsoo winces. "I'm still me, Kyungsoo, I'm still your hyung—" Kyungsoo shakes off Jihoon's hand and takes a deep breath, shaky as he finishes, "You're not my hyung. You're not the same Jihoon— I don't know you." "Wow." Jihoon shakes his head and wraps his fingers around Kyungsoo's left wrist, thumb rubbing circles on the underside. Kyungsoo tries to fight it, prying Jihoon's fingers from his skin, but Jihoon's much stronger — every touch, every contact burns. "Rude kid. You've changed, Do Kyungsoo, you really have—" "Ya, Kyungsoo! Coach is looking for—" Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder, a soft exhale escaping his lips as Baekhyun's figure comes into focus. He furrows his eyebrows slightly, signalling for help, and Baekhyun quickens his pace, runs the last few steps up until he's beside Kyungsoo. He hasn't stopped trying to free himself from Jihoon's grasp; Jihoon still has that crazy smile on his lips, and Kyungsoo's stomach still lurches at the very thought of it. He shakes the hand off one more time, with more power than the previous, until Jihoon catches his forearm with his free hand. "Stop fighting it, Kyungsoo." "Let him go," Baekhyun says now, eyes dark, gaze sharp. Kyungsoo looks to his side, searching for a trace of warmth in Baekhyun's eyes, but he finds nothing but the cold stare. "I said—" Baekhyun grips Jihoon by the wrist and yanks the hand on Kyungsoo's forearm away with one swift move. "Let him go." "You make friends with rude kids now, Kyungsoo? This is what you've become after I left?" "You didn't leave," Kyungsoo retorts, snarling. "I decided to move away from you." "You think you're so strong now, huh, with your friend here who can't even respect someone older than him?" Jihoon snorts. He loosens his grip on Kyungsoo's wrist, and Kyungsoo quickly shucks the hand away. The skin on his wrist is sore, burning a dull shade of red. "Who are you, even, huh? What's your name, kid?" Baekhyun moves closer — one step forward, one step to the side and closer to Kyungsoo. "I'm Byun Baekhyun, and I'm his—" "Doubles partner," Kyungsoo finishes. He reaches for Baekhyun's hand and squeezes it briefly. "Baekhyun is my doubles partner." Jihoon scoffs. "Well." Kyungsoo holds his gaze and tightens his grip on Baekhyun's hand until Baekhyun's yelps. Jihoon chuckles before turning on his heel, looking over his shoulder briefly before walking away. Kyungsoo lets his hand fall to his side when Jihoon's well out of sight, shoulders hunching. Baekhyun snakes an arm around his shoulder and he leans into the touch — for support, for comfort, for something he can't quite put into words. "You okay?" Baekhyun asks after a while. Kyungsoo opens his eyes and takes a deep breath before turning to Baekhyun. He can still feel his hands shaking. Baekhyun wraps his fingers around Kyungsoo's small fists, a blanket of warmth during a storm. "I'm good," he says. He swallows, choking down the screams lodged at his throat. "I'll be alright." "You owe me an explanation," Baekhyun whispers as they approach the net. "I expect you to tell me everything later." Kyungsoo shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he tightens his grip on his racket. Baekhyun demands private information like asking for yellow radish that a food server mistakenly forgot to include in his takeout. Like they're good enough friends that Kyungsoo owes him an explanation for every single thing that he does, or thinks about doing, or thinks of at all. "Maybe I do," he replies, then switches to a wide smile, albeit awkward around the edges, as the umpire turns to them to ask for their serving preference. "Heads," he chimes at the same time as Baekhyun does. Baekhyun snickers like a little kid; Kyungsoo suppresses his laughter but ends up choking on his own giggles, instead. "I'm serious, Soo. You have to tell me what that was about." Baekhyun taps his ass lightly with his racket. "I saved your life." Kyungsoo exhales loudly. "After English hagwon." "Over ice cream." "Tteokbokki." "The one across the school." Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. "Fine, fine, whatever. Just— Let's win this match." Kyungsoo walks a few spaces back, close enough to the T that neither side will be left open, but far enough to give the illusion that there's a gaping hole between the places. He bends his knees, crouching low, and repeats the line in his head, again and again until it becomes clearer — Jihoon is no more. Baekhyun is my doubles partner. Baekhyun's my new doubles partner. Jihoon doesn't exist— "Are we going with the 'ah-un' thing?" Baekhyun calls out from behind, and Kyungsoo just snorts as he shakes his head vigorously. He fixes his eyes on point in space where the shoulders of his opponents meet, lets his eyes outline the trace of their bodies, their stretch of their legs, the way they meet at the center of their court before taking their respective places, determination thick in their eyebrows and the way they give each other a thumbs up. "On second thought, maybe we can," Kyungsoo says. He catches Baekhyun's grin from the corner of his eye. Baekhyun serves. one | two | three | four