Chapter Text
”It’s been a difficult season for the 23-year old from South Korea. Although he’s been working the international circuit for years now, Kim always seems to be overshadowed by the likes of those both older and younger than him.”
”That’s right, Minseok-ssi. Kim Jongin qualified for the Grand Prix Final this year by the skin of his teeth—a last-minute replacement for his teammate, Oh Sehun, who withdrew after he broke his ankle in practice just two weeks before the competition.”
Jongin takes a deep breath.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
”Skating to selections from Carmen. He needs to turn his career around right now, and this may be his last chance to do it.”
Frigid wind striking his face as he picks up speed. The sudden hush of a crowd as he skates into his first jump. Then, a shocking impact that rattles his bones and rips through his resolve.
”Not a good start—hard fall on the Quadruple Salchow—“
His lungs are on fire.
”Down again on the Quad Toe, that was supposed to be in combination.”
”Scratchy landing for his Triple Flip—“
”Barely holds on to the Triple Axel—“
”He looks underprepared.“
”He’s visibly exhausted, and not even halfway through the program.“
”Now more than ever, Kim Jongin needs to show the figure skating world a reason why he deserves to be in the spotlight. But I did not see that reason today.”
”Me neither, Jongdae-ssi. You can see in his eyes that he has completely given up.”
•••••
Jongin
i am so sorry
Sehun
don’t be nini
you did great
Hunched in a ball on the toilet seat, Jongin feels silent tears begin to well up in his eyes. Kindness feels like the very proof that he messed up.
Jongin
i skated like shit
it should have been you out there tonight
winning gold
Sehun
hahaha
very funny
like I could win against taemin
u deserved to be there just as much as anyone
Jongin
thats not true
Sehun
you were first alternate for a reason
stop beating yourself up
ur at gpf. go have fun
Jongin
i’m thinking about retiring
BAM. Jongin flinches as the bathroom door slams open loudly. Raucous voices suddenly fill the small space, talking and laughing over one another.
“Ugh, fucking finally. I hate press conferences so goddamn much.” Jongin stays stock still as he recognizes the voice of the junior men’s champion, Chinese skater Huang Zitao. “My coach is always going on and on about media literacy. I don’t have the patience to play nice with those bastards.”
“Man, I just never know what to say, y’know?” Canadian junior Mark Lee chimes in. “They’re asking me all these questions about next season, and I’m like yo… why are you just assuming that I know what I’m doing?” This causes a round of laughter to erupt from the group of what Jongin assumes are mostly junior skaters.
“No, seriously. This sport is getting to be a fucking joke. I’m moving to senior next year, and I’m not even worried about qualifying for GPF,” Zitao brags.
“You think you can beat Taemin-sunbae?” That’s Taeyong, and he sounds derisive. “Please. I’d like to see you try.”
“Taemin’s getting old, and nobody else is consistent. I mean, what was your federation thinking, sending that idiot Kim Jongin?” Inside the stall, Jongin flinches. He feels as if he’s been doused in cold water.
“Wait, Jongin? I like him,” Mark remarks. “He’s really nice.”
“Well, he’s not very nice to watch on the ice.” More laughter. Jongin’s hands are beginning to shake. “He’s been competing senior for years, and his triples are still inconsistent. I can’t believe they named him first alternate instead of Do Kyungsoo. I—“ Jongin drops his phone. It lands on the ground with a spectacular clatter. The juniors fall eerily silent.
Fuck.
Jongin stoops to pick up his phone with trembling fingers, causing the toilet to automatically flush. As he does, he sees the unread text messages on the screen.
Sehun
i don’t think u should retire
let’s get a drink when u come back
the season’s over. we should celebrate
A sudden surge of anger—at himself, at Zitao, at the world—rushes through Jongin. He unlocks the door of the stall and walks out, much to the juniors’ dismay. Taeyong rushes to bow, Mark looks stricken, and Zitao seems embarrassed, but still defiant. With clipped, tense movements, Jongin washes his hands, pats them dry with a paper towel, and walks out of the bathroom without saying a word.
•••••
It’s raining when Jongin’s flight lands in Seoul. Droplets of water cling to the airplane windows while Jongin watches the figures in bright fluorescent vests on the tarmac, directing the plane to the gate.
As he walks through the airport, he feels the melancholy that has been clinging to him since his free skate lift a little, to be replaced by a quiet relief. The future is still unclear, but at least he’s home. He can go back to his apartment, take a long shower, and pick up his favorite kimbap at the convenience store for dinner tonight instead of searching through restaurant reviews on Google Maps. Suddenly, someone calls him, jolting him out of his thoughts.
“Jongin-ah!” He looks up to see Sehun, waving at him with one of his crutches. Baekhyun stands next to him, a wicked glint in his eye as he waves a massive sign that reads, “CONGRATULATIONS FIGURE SKATING GRAND PRIX FINALIST, KIM JONGIN!!!” that is garnering many second looks from passerby, whose curious eyes then turn to Jongin, who is cowering under his turtleneck sweater, beanie, and mask.
“I will kill you,” Jongin says to Baekhyun with no heat. The latter holds his arms out, but Jongin hugs his long-time best friend and teammate first, burying his face against Sehun’s bony shoulder. Sehun pats him on the back, not letting go until Jongin does.
“Welcome back,” Sehun says. He looks so proud. Jongin has no idea why.
“How was America?” Baekhyun asks.
“Alright.” Jongin punches him half-heartedly, fondly, on the arm.
“Yah, show some respect for your hyung,” Baekhyun complains, not at all miffed.
“Please fold that sign up right now, or I will never call you hyung again. Hyung,” Jongin tacks on after a precarious moment. Sehun cracks up. “You guys didn’t have to come pick me up,” he chides, though he’s secretly happy to see friendly faces. He nods at Sehun. “Especially with your slow ass on crutches.”
“I can keep up with you two-leggers just fine, thank you very much.” Indeed, Sehun shows no sign of exertion as the three of them walk towards the exit, where Baekhyun hails a cab.
“Chanyeollie wanted to come too, but he’s at the rink working. He says congratulations.” Baekhyun beams. “Don’t look so gloomy! Only six people in the world get to go to GPF every year, and you’re one of them. You’re not nearly as incompetent as you think you are.”
“Well, I sure skated incompetently,” Jongin mutters, settling in between his two friends in the middle seat of the taxi. Sehun’s thigh rests warm next to his. Jongin tips his head against his best friend’s arm, suddenly exhausted.
“Hyung’s right, you know,” Sehun says. “The fact that you were there is an accomplishment in and of itself.”
Jongin swallows. “Did you hear the TV commentary?”
“Yeah. So what?” Sehun remains nonchalant. “Everything they say is bullshit.”
Easy for you to say, when everyone’s on your side, Jongin thinks. Almost immediately, a wave of shame washes over him. Sehun is injured. He’s been nothing but supportive; always has been. It’s not his fault that Jongin managed to mess up almost every element in his program.
“We’re throwing you a celebration party tomorrow evening,” Baekhyun tells Jongin as the taxi pulls up at the rink. Jongin starts to protest, but Baekhyun slaps a hand over Jongin’s mouth. “I don’t want to hear it. We’re gonna put a smile on that face, whether you like it or not. It’s only upwards from here!”
Actually, it’s the end. But Jongin bites the inside of his cheek, holding back his words as he watches Baekhyun make his way towards the familiar home rink.
“You must be tired from the jet lag,” Sehun says. Jongin glances at him.
“Yeah, a bit.”
“Hyung can be really overwhelming sometimes. We should grab dinner and drinks when you’re feeling up to it. Just me and you,” Sehun offers. Jongin nods, heart gritty with emotions, heavy with letdown. He stares out of the window, feeling as gloomy as the gray rain clouds outside. He can feel Sehun’s eyes on him, but his best friend doesn’t say anything, and neither does Jongin.
“We can both get out here,” Jongin tells the taxi driver when they approach Sehun’s apartment complex some minutes later. They’re only a couple blocks away from each other. While Sehun pays the fare, Jongin pulls his suitcase out from the trunk.
“You need help getting upstairs?” Jongin asks. Sehun shakes his head.
“Elevators exist, you know. And I’m not crippled.” Sehun smiles faintly. “I’ll be fine.”
“How much more time until you’re back on the ice?” Jongin asks.
Sehun tucks the crutches under his arms. “Not sure. The doctor said at least 6 weeks of rest after the operation, so…”
“You’ll be fine by next season.”
“Let’s hope so.” Sehun laughs shortly. “Anyways, I’ll see you at the party tomorrow. Get some rest.”
“Okay. Yeah. I’m just tired.” Jongin starts backing away in the direction of his apartment. “Thanks for picking me up.”
“‘Course. See ya.” Sehun waves.
•••••
BREAKING: Figure Skating Prince, Lee Taemin, Announces Retirement After World-Record Breaking Grand Prix Final Free Skate.
“Pause.” Baekhyun shoves the article under Jongin’s nose. Jongin’s jaw literally drops and he frantically pats Sehun’s shoulder to get his attention.
“What, Nini?” Sehun turns around.
“Taemin-sunbae’s retiring.”
“PAUSE. Is this true?” Sehun’s cheeks are slightly flushed from drinking; he squints to keep the phone screen in focus. While Jongin would normally tease him, he’s too busy digging up more information to bother.
“The federation just released a statement,” Chanyeol says, texting the official link to all of them.
“No way,” Jongin says, loud enough to be heard over the din of the bar that they’re at. “Why would he retire now? In the middle of an Olympic cycle?”
“I guess the appeal of going to the Olympics really fades when you win it three times in a row,” Sehun says, lips close to Jongin’s ear. “Fuck, who are we going to send to international competitions now?”
Jongin scoffs. “Well, we all know they’re not sending me.”
“Aw, c’mon, Nini, I didn’t mean it like that.” Sehun sounds distressed. Jongin slings an arm over his shoulder.
“S’okay.” His best friend is warm. Jongin can’t really form coherent thoughts right now, but he knows that Sehun is handsome when he gets drunk. He smiles wider, laughs harder, touches Jongin more. Not that they don’t already cuddle and grab each other’s butts and take post-training naps together. It just feels different when they’re like this.
“No offense to you two, but there’s not a skater in the world who could compete with Taemin-sunbae,” Baekhyun says. Jongin and Sehun shake their heads in unison.
“None taken.”
“You know what they say. You have to quit when you’re at your best,” Chanyeol chimes in. He holds up a hand, signaling for the bartender. “How about a round for Taemin-sunbae?”
“This my last,” Jongin slurs. “I’m out.”
“Yeah, same.” Sehun adds.
“No, I mean this was my last season too,” Jongin hears himself say, without actually registering the words. Chanyeol knocks the bottle of soju over as Baekhyun screeches in protest. The bartender throws them all a nasty look.
“Why?” Sehun asks. There’s an indecipherable expression on his face.
Jongin shrugs.
“You know why. Oh, stop looking at me like that.” Jongin runs his finger along the slightly sticky countertop, along the wood grain. He raises his voice. “Let’s all just admit that I haven’t made any progress in years, that I’m an embarrassment to Korean figure skating, and that the international circuit will be better off without me. I mean, the juniors don’t even think I’m worthy of competing against. Why should I stick around?” Jongin takes the shot glass from Chanyeol’s hands, pours himself a drink, and gulps it down without so much as blinking. “Fuck this sport. I’m done.”
“Jongin…” Chanyeol says, voice uncharacteristically gentle. “You know, nobody thinks that about you. You’re being too hard on yourself.”
Jongin slumps against Sehun’s shoulder and breathes in. Sehun is sweaty from drink and crowd, but he’s also wearing his distinctive cologne that Jongin has come to associate with comfort. Sehun wraps an arm around him and agrees with Chanyeol, but Jongin isn’t listening anymore.
“You’re gonna be so good at the Olympics,” he tells Sehun. “I just know it.”
“I’m not going,” Sehun says. “Not if you aren’t.”
Jongin just laughs.
He doesn’t remember the rest of the night.