#and constantly trying to seek attention | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thewritingrowlet · 19 days ago

Text

The Uncontested Attention, ft. NMIXX Sullyoon

tags: first time

length: 13k

---

The roar of the crowd is a distant hum in Jihoon's ears. He's on the free-throw line, the weight of the game resting squarely on his shoulders. This is a crucial semi-final match in the national tournament, and every point counts. He takes a deep breath, focuses on the hoop, and sinks the shot, but not before the ball rattles around the rim—quite the unnerving sight for the captain; missing a free throw in the dying embers of the game might turn out disastrous.

The cheerleading squad bursts into an energetic routine on the sidelines, a blur of motion and color. He hears Yoona's clear, bright voice leading the chants, her presence a steady, familiar beacon in the exhilarating chaos. As he backtracks towards his team’s side of the court, Jihoon catches a glimpse of her, her features beaming with pure joy. Jihoon allows himself to smile back at her, acknowledging her support and momentarily clearing space in his mind.

After the game, a hard-fought victory, the locker room is a mix of exhaustion and elation. Jihoon is toweling off when Jinsol appears, seemingly out of nowhere, her eyes sparkling with what she clearly thinks is triumph. "Oppa, you were amazing! We have to celebrate tonight. My treat." She leans in too close, her perfume filling his nostrils.

Jihoon forces a polite smile, already formulating an excuse while also wondering how she’s managed to get in the locker room. “I’m sorry, Jinsol-ah, but I’m kind of exhausted,” he replies, opting to be as honest as can be, careful to not hurt her feelings. “Are you serious, oppa?” Jinsol asks, her fists planted on her hips, her expression turning sour. “You don’t have even an hour or two for me?”

Jihoon sighs, feeling pressured both by Jinsol’s demanding presence and his teammates’ gaze, trying his best to stay calm and not say anything regrettable. “Please, let me get some rest, sweetie,” he whispers, begging her to understand, using a pet name for good measure. “Oh, erm, o-okay,” Jinsol’s cheeks turn a pink hue, getting butterflies in her stomach at the endearment, “I-I’ll see you tomorrow, oppa.”

Jihoon watches Jinsol retreating, a sense of relief washing over him, quickly replaced by a weary sigh. He hates being rude, especially when someone is clearly trying to be kind, but Jinsol’s brand of affection feels more like a demand; she’s constantly seeking him, looking for ways to be close. He just wants some space, especially now, with the national final looming. He glances at his teammates, some still laughing, others already heading for the showers. Jihoon wants to escape the locker room, find a moment of peace.

Looking for some fresh air, Jihoon heads out of the locker room, dragging his tired, aching legs to find somewhere to sit, and his choice lands on a bench under the lights. “Ugh.” He grunts as his butt settles on the cold steel bars of the bench. It’s not the most comfortable, but this will do for now.

As he closes his eyes to relax, a commotion is heard nearby. When Jihoon opens his eyes again, his gaze lands on Yoona, following behind her the rest of the cheerleading squad. She stops in her tracks and gives him a small nod, immediately looking away after, her cheeks starting to burn from shyness. He chuckles a little, amused by her little gesture, and that chuckle grows into a laugh when some other cheerleaders start teasing Yoona for it.

“I think you guys should leave her alone,” Jihoon says, his voice gentle with no trace of anger, trying to save Yoona from further embarrassment. “Yeah, well, I think you guys should start dating,” one of the girls manages to counter, causing Jihoon to regret intervening.

Jihoon's ears burn, a blush creeping up his neck. "Hey!" he calls out, though his voice lacks any real bite. The cheerleaders just giggle, high fiving each other as they walk away, leaving Yoona still standing there, face a deep crimson. She avoids his gaze, fiddling with the pom-poms in her hands as if they hold all the secrets of the universe. He feels a strange mixture of embarrassment and... something else. An unexpected flutter in his chest. Dating Yoona? The thought is foreign, yet not entirely unpleasant. He's never really considered her in that way, not seriously.

Jihoon rises from the bench, slowly approaching the girl who is rooted to the spot. "Don't listen to them," he says, trying to sound casual, but his voice feels a little too loud in the sudden quiet. "People say stupid things sometimes. There's no reason to be embarrassed." He clears his throat, trying to shake off the lingering awkwardness from the cheerleader’s comment. “My name is Min Jihoon. Can I ask what yours is?”

Yoona finally looks up, her eyes wide, still shy but meeting his. Her nervousness is endearing. He realizes he's never truly looked at her like this before, not really taken in her bright eyes and the way her hair catches the lights of this little park. “I-it’s Yoona. Seol Yoona,” she answers, her whispered voice barely heard. “N-nice seeing you, s-senior.” A warm smile blooms on Jihoon’s face, a similar sense of warmth rising within. “Please, it’s just Jihoon-ie. If you want, you can call me ‘oppa’ instead.”

Yoona's eyes widen, her cheeks flushing even deeper at the suggestion of calling him by “oppa” or even his name. She bites her lip, a shy smile finally breaking through her embarrassment. "Okay... oppa," she manages, testing the name on her lips. The moment stretches, filled with unspoken questions and a newfound awareness. Jihoon finds himself drawn to her quiet vulnerability, a stark contrast to the demanding attention he usually receives. He feels an unexpected urge to protect that shyness, to keep this moment separate from the noise of the tournament.

“Hey, erm, you’re coming next weekend, right?” Jihoon asks, the words leaving his lips before he can think. ��I mean, with the rest of the cheerleading team, of course.” Yoona nods, clutching her pom-poms to her chest. “Yes, I am. Erm, there will be a new routine for the finals.” Her voice is still soft, but there’s a spark of excitement in her eyes at the new routine. Jihoon smiles again, genuinely. He realizes he's completely forgotten about Jinsol, about the lingering stress of the game. For the first time all day, his mind feels truly clear, focused only on the girl in front of him. "Good luck with your routine, Yoona-yah. I'll be watching."

A soft blush blooms on Yoona's cheeks at his use of "Yoona-yah.” The way he says it in that calm, steady tone feels rather tender. "Thank you, oppa," she murmurs, her gaze still fixed on him, a quiet warmth emanating from her. The air between them hums, thick with unspoken possibilities. Jihoon finds himself wanting to extend the moment, to simply bask in her serene yet alluring presence. The fatigue in his legs seems to lessen, replaced by a light, hopeful energy. He realizes he's rarely felt this centered, this... simply good.

"I… I should head back to the dorms," Yoona says, finally looking away, her eyes briefly scanning the area around them. "It's getting late." A small pang of disappointment registers in Jihoon's chest. "Right," he says, trying to keep his voice even. "Get some good rest." He watches her as she turns, her steps quick and light as she moves in the other direction. “I’ll see you around, sweetie,” he mutters, his low voice making him confident that he won’t be heard.

Upon arriving at her room, Yoona slams the door behind her, the thud echoing through the quiet hallway. “Oh my God, oh my God,” she chants frantically, her chest rising and falling rapidly, still unable to shake off the shock from meeting Jihoon. “What… what just happened?” she asks herself, the furniture in her room offering no clarity.

Yoona jumps onto the mattress, landing on her belly, not concerned about changing out of her cheerleader uniform. “Aaaaah!” she whines, her pillow muffling the sound. “Seol Yoona, you are out of your mind, talking to the captain like that,” she bashes herself, rambling nonsense as her mind races with possibilities. Future encounters, ones where they might actually be open with each other.

Yoona kicks her legs in the air, a giddy laugh bubbling up from her chest, quickly stifled by her hand. "He called me 'Yoona-yah'!" she squeals silently. The tenderness in his voice, the way he looked at her—it was all so much more than she ever dared to dream. She needs to write this down, capture every detail before it fades. She scrambles off the bed, rummaging through her backpack, searching for a small journal bound in a soft, navy-blue cover. This is where her deepest hopes and most embarrassing confessions live.

She clutches it to her chest for a moment, letting the weight of the day settle, before flipping to a fresh page. Her pen hovers for a second, then dances across the paper. “June 1st,” she begins. “The day I actually talked to oppa.” Yoona doesn’t bother writing down his name, her heart already feeling very comfortable about him. “HIS SMILE!” Yoona writes in all uppercase, punctuating the lasting impression with an exclamation mark, her writing untidy because of the giddiness flowing through her.

Yoona’s pen flies across the page, recounting every detail of their brief interaction, filling the page with every little detail she's picked up. It's exhilarating and terrifying, putting these profound feelings into concrete words, etched in a physical medium, making them feel undeniably real. She can't believe it actually happened. Jihoon, the basketball captain, the one everyone looks up to, actually engaged her in a real conversation, a connection far deeper than she'd ever dared to dream.

As Yoona writes, a new determination stirs in her, her mind coming up with ways to get close to him, to get his attention, even if it’s fleeting. “I can use those,” she thinks, her gaze locked on the stack of sticky notes before her. “I can just… leave him notes…” she mumbles.

Yoona picks up a sticky note, her thumb rubbing against its smooth surface. Anonymity is the name of the game. It allows her to say what she's too shy to express face-to-face, to offer the kind of genuine support she knows he needs without making him uncomfortable. He's been distracted by Jinsol, oblivious to the deeper connection he might be craving. Yoona closes her eyes, picturing his face, the subtle lines of stress she'd noticed even through his post-game smile.

“Oppa,” she pens, letting her hand be led by her heart. “I know how hard you work for us, but please stay safe and don’t get injured. I’m rooting for you.” Yoona falls silent as she finishes writing, the radiance dissipating from her face as she feels the pull of something deeper. “Oppa…” she mutters softly. “Please win. For us and everyone who believes in you. I know you can do it.”

Yoona reads the note once more, her fingers tracing the neat, heartfelt script. It's more personal than anything she’s ever done before, imbued with a new kind of urgency. She folds it carefully, tucking it into a small, decorative envelope she keeps for special occasions.

Tomorrow, she'll find the perfect moment. She knows his routine: early morning shots at the gym. She can slip it into his bag or maybe tuck it under his water bottle while pretending to do something else. A nervous excitement flutters in her stomach, pushing away the earlier giddiness. This isn't just a crush anymore; it's a profound wish, a silent promise.

Yoona finally rises from her chair. Her earlier uniform forgotten, she slips into something more comfortable for bed, but sleep feels distant. She climbs back under the covers, but sleep feels distant. As she lies on her side, her stare remains fixed at the note she’s prepared, a fond smile playing on her lips from imagining his reaction to it. She hopes that he will feel the sincerity in the words, the true meaning of the gesture. Tomorrow, when he reads it, she will still be a cheerleader, practicing the new routine for the grand finals, but after that, Jihoon will know that someone is cheering him on from his corner.

Yoona approaches the arena carefully, her light steps betraying the heavy pounds of her heart. Pushing the glass door, her ears pick up some familiar noises: the squeaks from shoes that skid against the court, mixed with the subtle thuds from a bouncing basketball. She peeks around a corner, and there he is, pacing along the width of the court, his fingers controlling the ball with ease as if attached to strings.

Yoona watches on as Jihoon stands just beyond the three-point line, his eyes locked on the rim before him. Suddenly, with an explosive burst of energy, he sprints towards it, dribbling the ball with focused intensity. When Jihoon gets close enough, he lifts the ball, letting it bounce softly against the glass backboard—but he misses.

When he turns around, Yoona sees the frown on his face, his own mind admonishing him for his failure to perform a supposedly simple task: to score from that close of a range. Her heart clenches as she starts to grasp the kind of pressure that’s he’s carrying on his shoulders.

Jihoon sighs, running a hand through his damp hair. He retrieves the ball, bouncing it once, twice, then sends it arching towards the hoop again. This time, it swishes cleanly through the net. He nods, but the frown lingers, a testament to his own high expectations. Yoona watches, her resolve firming. This is why he needs her note. She takes a silent breath, pulling the decorative envelope from her pocket. Jihoon heads towards the water cooler, briefly setting the ball down by his gym bag on the sidelines.

This is her chance. Her heart pounds a frantic rhythm against her ribs, but her steps are light, almost soundless, on the polished court. She moves with the practiced stealth of a cheerleader during a surprise routine, gliding towards the sidelines. In a swift, practiced motion, she kneels by his bag, slipping the note inside before he even turns from the cooler. She rises just as quietly, her gaze sweeping the empty gym, and then, with a final, quick glance at Jihoon's back, she sprints away before—a voice, sharp and sudden, cuts through the echoing gym.

“Who is that?”

Yoona’s legs lock, coming to a dead stop. She is stunned by his voice, unable to take even one step away from him. “I-it’s me, oppa. S-Seol Yoona,” she mumbles, not daring to turn around to face him, her stare stuck on the floor. Jihoon drops the ball, letting it roll away, wiping off most of his sweat to make himself presentable. He stops closely behind her, towering over her petite frame. “You’re not even facing me. Is that how you speak to your senior, Seol Yoona?” he asks, his voice gaining quite the sharp edge, a contrast to last night's.

Mustering up the courage, Yoona turns around but still can’t look him in the eyes, her body trembling slightly with fear. “I’m so sorry, Yoona-yah,” he takes a few steps closer towards her, getting down on one knee to get on her eye level, “did I scare you? Was I being too mean?” She manages to shake her head, hiding her shaken heart behind it. “Please forgive me, Yoona-yah. I was just… frustrated.” He pauses, gauging her reaction to his apology. “I mean, that’s no reason to be mean, but please understand where I’m coming from.”

Yoona offers another hesitant shake of her head, still unable to meet his eyes, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Even with him kneeling, his presence feels immense, dominating the quiet space. He's so close, she can smell the lingering scent of his sweat, clean and sharp, mixed with a faint hint of his body wash. The note, now tucked away in his bag, feels like a live wire, burning a hole through the fabric. Did he see? Does he know? The questions scream inside her head, but she can't find her voice.

Jihoon watches her, his brow furrowed with genuine concern. He reaches out a hand, hesitates, then gently brushes it against hers. "Yoona-yah, really, it's okay. I didn't mean to snap. Just... rough practice." He pauses again, his gaze drifting from her downcast face towards his gym bag, then back to her. He takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself. "What are you doing here, anyway? Do you have practice too?" The question hangs in the air, innocent on the surface, yet loaded with unspoken implications.

“I just wanted to see you, oppa,” she answers, not mincing her words. “I… I wanted to see you,” she repeats, this time in a whispered, low tone. Her entire body flushes, burning hot with a potent mix of embarrassment and excitement. “You wanted to see me?” Jihoon confirms, his tone taking on a similar soft tone. “I’m honored, Yoona-yah. Thank you,” he adds.

Jihoon rises slowly, his gaze still soft, but a flicker of something new—intrigue, perhaps—dances in his eyes. Yoona keeps her eyes fixed on his chest, her cheeks still burning. The weight of his acknowledgment feels both overwhelming and deeply gratifying. She curses her own impulsive words, yet a part of her is also relieved they're finally out. She braces herself for what he might say next, a knot tightening in her stomach.

“Yoona-yah, please listen to me,” he says. Yoona lifts her chin, ready to listen intently, her glassy eyes meeting his. “Thank you for the support, seriously, but… Bae Jinsol won’t take this kindly, and I don’t want to put you in the crossfire.” Tears begin to pool in her eyes, expecting to hear a rejection from the man she admires so. “Oh, sweetie, please don’t,” he hurries before tears begin flowing down her cheeks. “I’m not shutting you out, I promise, but let me figure things out with Jinsol-ie first.”

Yoona swallows hard, the tears receding, replaced by a fresh surge of embarrassment and a quiet understanding. He's not rejecting her, but he's acknowledging the complicated mess Jinsol represents. It's almost worse, knowing he cares enough to protect her from that. "Okay," she murmurs, the word barely audible.

Jihoon reaches out, his fingers hovering over her wrist. "Are you heading back to the dorms now?" he asks, his voice soft, almost hesitant, as if gauging her reaction. "It's still pretty dark. I could walk you back?" His offer is a lifeline, a gentle invitation to extend this charged moment, despite the unspoken barrier. Yoona nods, her lips curving into a small smile. The path forward feels clearer, yet also far more difficult than she'd ever imagined. “Yes, oppa. Please walk with me,” she says.

Jihoon's hand lightly takes her arm, and he steers her gently towards the wide glass doors of the gym. The cool air outside is a stark contrast to the humid warmth of the court, but Yoona barely notices. Her focus is entirely on the man beside her, his presence a comforting anchor. They walk in silence, the rhythm of their footsteps echoing faintly on the deserted pathways. Yoona glances at him from the corner of her eye. He looks tired, the subtle lines of strain still etched around his eyes despite the victory. The urge to help him, to truly be his support, swells within her.

“Oppa…” she calls to him, her tone gentle and careful. “Are you okay? Is there any way I can help?” Jihoon offers a small, tight smile, hiding the depths of his burdens. “I’m okay, Yoona-yah. Just a bit tired and stressed, but that’s nothing new to me.” Yoona sighs, wishing he would open to her more, let her look into his life just a bit more, but her heart insists: such a time will come eventually. “Okay,” she concedes. “But… but please know that I’m here for you, oppa.”

Jihoon nods, his gaze softening further. "I know, sweetie," he replies, the endearment slipping through his lips, his voice carrying a warmth that makes her heart flutter. "I appreciate that, really." His thumb lightly brushes against her arm where his hand rests. It's a small gesture, but to Yoona, it feels monumental, a silent acknowledgment of the comfort she offers. The early morning chill seems less biting now, replaced by the warmth emanating from his touch.

Reaching the big intersection, Jihoon stops, turning towards Yoona, his towering presence more comforting than intimidating. “Yes, oppa? Is everything okay?” she asks, unsure as to why they have stopped here and now. “Seol Yoona, I…” he sighs, the cool air making his breath visible, “I don’t know, I just want to… be with you just a bit more.”

Yoona stares at him, her mind struggling to process his words. "Be with me... just a bit more?" The question hangs in the air, fragile and precious. A slow, undeniable smile spreads across her face, mirroring the hope she sees in his eyes. Her cheeks flush, but this time it's from pure, exhilarating joy. "Okay, oppa," she breathes, a soft confirmation of agreement. "Why don’t we take a seat somewhere and, you know, be with each other just a bit more?"

Jihoon’s shoulders drop, the tension releasing from his body, as Yoona leads him towards a nearby bench, the steel bars cold from the early morning breeze. His gaze drifts to the right, taking in the sight of the female dorm buildings that are standing strong despite their age. “You know, I’ve actually never been to the girls’ dorms,” he admits. Her eyebrows furrow: there’s no way he’s never been there. “You can’t be serious,” she protests. He chuckles, not taking any offense from her counter. “I mean, I’ve never dated anyone in university, so I basically have zero reason to go there.”

Yoona's eyebrows remain furrowed, a thoughtful expression on her face. "So, you've just been... focusing on basketball?" she asks, a genuine curiosity woven in her tone. It's a stark contrast to her own life, where cheerleading is important, but there's still room for friends, for quiet moments, for crushes. Jihoon nods, his gaze fixed on the dorms. "Pretty much. No time for anything else, really." He gestures vaguely, as if explaining a complex play. "It's all consuming. Especially with the finals coming up."

A quiet hum settles between them. Yoona realizes that despite his popularity and his obvious talent, there's a part of him that's incredibly innocent, perhaps even a little lonely, in his relentless pursuit of the game. He's never experienced the awkwardness or the thrill of young love. This thought sparks gentle protectiveness in her. "I’m… willing to take a chance with you, oppa.”

Jihoon turns his head slowly, his gaze shifting from the distant dorms to Yoona's face. Her words hang in the cool morning air, clear and utterly unexpected. His eyes, usually so focused on the court, are wide, reflecting a mix of shock and a dawning comprehension. The easy rhythm of their walk, the comfortable silence, all of it shatters under the weight of her declaration.

“Seol Yoona…” he says her name in this tranquilizing tone. “Look at me, please.” Following his request, Yoona turns her head towards him, holding his gaze despite her burning cheeks. “Are you serious about that? About giving me a chance?” he asks, his eyes searching for signs of dishonesty but finding only the truth. “Yes, but there’s a condition,” she says. “I don’t want to see you hang out with Bae Jinsol.”

Jihoon blinks, processing her words, a subtle shift in his posture suggesting he's moved from surprise to problem-solving mode. He sighs, running a hand through his damp hair. "Bae Jinsol," he murmurs, more to himself than to Yoona. "She's... persistent." He looks back at Yoona, a hint of a wry smile touching his lips. "It won't be easy, Yoona-yah. She's not exactly subtle when she wants something." He pauses, his gaze locking with hers, a serious, determined glint in his eyes. "You're right, though. That's a fair condition."

A wave of relief washes over Yoona, making her almost dizzy. He understands. He's not dismissing her; he's simply acknowledging the difficulty. "So... you'll do it?" she asks, her voice a hopeful whisper. Jihoon nods, a firm, decisive motion. "I will," he promises, his voice low and steady. "Just... give me a little time, sweetheart. I’ll figure it out. For us."

Yoona nods, a slow, happy nod that reflects the profound relief settling in her chest. The early morning chill, which had seemed so sharp just moments ago, now feels irrelevant, replaced by the warmth that blooms from Jihoon's promise. “Thank you, oppa, and I like it when you call me sweetheart.” Jihoon chuckles, shaking his head out of amusement. “I mean, your heart is indeed sweet—ow, what’s that for?” He rubs the spot on his thigh where her fist landed, playing up his reactions. “You’re going to give me diabetes, Min Jihoon,” she quips, her voice laced with playful annoyance.

Jihoon rises from the bench, his relaxed shoulders a proof of his lessening stress. “Come, baby. Let’s get you indoors.” He opens his palm, offering it for Yoona to hold. With a big smile, she takes his hand, her fingers wrapping tightly around his. “Yes, please.”

After the gentle slope of the brick path, they reach the steps to her dorm building. Jihoon stops, still holding her wrist. "I'll see you soon, Yoona-yah," he says, his voice softer now, the teasing gone, replaced by a quiet earnestness. “By then, I hope I will have cut ties with Jinsol-ie.” His thumb brushes gently against her pulse point, adding weight to his promise. Yoona's heart thumps. "See you, oppa, and please be kind to Jinsol-ie" she replies, her voice barely a whisper, already anticipating their next encounter, a future that feels suddenly, beautifully, real.

The last day of practice before the finals is here, and according to the wind carrying the rumors, the cheerleading team will be practicing their new routine at the other basketball court, next to the court in which Jihoon’s team will be practicing.

Jihoon stretches at the edge of his team's court, his muscles already protesting the rigorous practice ahead. “Oh, God,” he grunts, bending his back too far backwards, his joints making these popping sounds. As he stretches other parts of his body, music with uplifting, fast beats begin filling the area, the cheerleading girls moving around to find their practiced spots.

“Look,” Siwoo nudges Jihoon’s elbow, “the girl wearing 26 is cute, no?” Jihoon’s eyebrows furrow; 26 is Yoona’s number. “Why, you like her or something?” he asks, covering his irritation with a question. “I mean, who doesn’t?” Siwoo shrugs, thinking it’s simply a fact that Yoona is crush material. “Don’t let me catch you drooling over 26, Siwoo-yah,” Jihoon threatens, the weight of his words not truly reaching Siwoo, who is thinking it’s a normal banter.

Jihoon glares at Siwoo's retreating back, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “No one is drooling over Yoona but me—that’s my Yoona”, he thinks, the possessive thought surprising even himself. His eyes instinctively drift to the adjacent court, finding Yoona among the blur of motion. She's at the front, leading the complex movements, her focus absolute. The new routine is indeed intricate, demanding. He watches her, completely absorbed, warmth spreading through him that makes him forget the protesting muscles and the impending rigorous practice.

The sound of Coach Kang’s whistle breaks his concentration. “Come on, let’s get this started already,” he shouts. Jihoon snaps his attention back to his own team, but the image of Yoona, graceful and vibrant, remains etched in his mind. “Captain, stop ogling those girls, will you?” Jihoon clicks his tongue and shakes his head, downplaying his interest in front of his coach.

Jihoon throws himself into the drills with renewed fervor, the basketball a familiar extension of his will. Unlike other practices, however, his focus isn't solely on the rim or facing the opposing team. Every explosive sprint, every precise pass, every powerful jump feels infused with a new, quiet purpose. He knows Yoona is just meters away, and the thought of her watching, or perhaps even glancing, adds a subtle fire to his movements. He can still hear the faint, rhythmic pulse of the cheerleading music, a comforting counterpoint to the squeak of his shoes.

He pushes himself harder, imagining her new routine, the dedication it must take, comparing her struggles with his own. He promised her he'd figure things out with Jinsol. Watching her now, so full of grace and determination, only solidifies his resolve. This upcoming final isn’t just about the championship anymore; it is about laying the groundwork for them. He glances quickly towards the adjacent court during a water break, catching a glimpse of her laughing with a teammate, and a genuine smile, unbidden, touches his lips.

As he puts down his bottle, Jihoon catches a familiar figure sitting in the empty stands: Bae Jinsol. “Oh, hell no,” he thinks, staring at her blankly. Thinking he’s excited to see her, Jinsol waves at him, grinning ear to ear, seemingly excited to have him notice her presence. Jihoon offers her a small nod, not wanting to be caught reacting too much when Yoona is just meters away from him.

Jinsol rises to her feet, waving at Jihoon with more fervor. “He must be shy around his teammates,” she thinks, clueless to the actual reason of his reservations. Jihoon gives her one last smile before turning around, redirecting his focus back on the practice. As she settles in her seat again, Jinsol’s heart soars with pride, as if she just claimed him before this crowd. On the other hand, Yoona, who has been watching Jinsol’s antics, can only wipe her glassy eyes before the tears spill out.

Yoona quickly turns her head, pretending to adjust her hair, her gaze fixed on the intricate patterns of the gym floor. She blinks rapidly, trying to force the tears back, a bitter lump forming in her throat. “He promised,” she thinks, clinging to the memory of his quiet words on the bench, but seeing Jinsol's brazen claim, Jihoon's subtle nod, and her own hidden tears, the promise feels fragile, easily broken under the harsh light of public display. Her stomach churns with a mix of despair and a fierce, unfamiliar anger. The new routine suddenly feels meaningless, her dedication hollow. All she can do is bite her lip, trying to hold back the sob that threatens to escape.

“Don’t betray me now, my love.”

Yoona forces her head back up, her jaw clenched tight. The music for their routine swells again, the familiar upbeat tempo now feeling like a mocking echo of her own internal turmoil. She blinks once, twice, forcing back the burning wetness from her eyes, and takes her place, ready for the next sequence. Her movements are stiff at first, mechanical, lacking the usual grace. Every synchronized step, every energetic jump, feels like a performance she's putting on for herself, a desperate attempt to ignore the ache in her chest. She glances over at Jihoon's court, but he's a blur of motion, absorbed in his own practice, seemingly oblivious. “He can't betray me,” she repeats, a silent, desperate mantra, pushing through the routine with a newfound, rigid determination.

The minutes fly by, and now, both Jihoon and Yoona are finished with their practices. Jihoon sits down in the middle of the court, leaning backwards and supporting himself with his arms, his legs let straight. Across him, Yoona also sits in the middle of the court, albeit a bit hidden by one of her teammates—Jihoon can only see her face, not the rest of her body. He notices that she’s glaring at him, her burning gaze drilling a hole between his eyes. As an attempt to defuse the situation, Jihoon offers her a tentative smile, hoping that she will calm down.

Jihoon's smile falters under the unwavering intensity of Yoona's glare. It's not just frustration; it's betrayal, raw and painful. He realizes, with a cold jolt, that she must have seen Jinsol, must have misinterpreted his subtle nod. "Oh, hell no." The thought from earlier reverberates in his mind, now tinged with acute regret. He glances quickly towards Jinsol, who is still beaming from the stands, oblivious. He needs to fix this, and fast.

He pushes himself up, his muscles stiff, but his mind is racing. This isn't just about his promise anymore; it's about the trust he's already inadvertently broken. Yoona's gaze never leaves him, a silent, burning challenge. He knows he can't approach her now, not with Jinsol watching. He has to handle the immediate problem. He takes a deep breath, his decision firm, and with a determined set to his jaw, he heads straight for the stands, ignoring the questioning glances from his teammates.

“Can we talk, Jinsol-ah?” he whispers to Jinsol, urgency lying beneath his question. “Depends,” she says. “Do I or do I not have your attention?” Jihoon exhales deeply, trying to stay calm in front of the difficult girl. “Please, sweetie. Let’s… head somewhere else and talk.” She smirks, satisfied with both the pet name and his soft demand. “Aww, okay. Let’s head out for a bit, yeah?”

Jihoon nods, his jaw still tight, and gestures towards the tunnel leading to the locker rooms, a place where they can have more privacy. Jinsol's smirk widens, and she playfully grabs his arm, a move that makes him inwardly flinch. As they walk away, Jihoon risks a quick glance towards Yoona's court. Yoona is still there, her head now turned away, her posture rigid. He knows she saw—she must have. A fresh wave of urgency washes over him. This conversation with Jinsol will not be easy, but he has to make it clear, once and for all, where he stands at this crossroads of attention.

Meanwhile, back on the cheerleading court, Yoona's eyes burn with unshed tears. She sees them walk away, Jinsol clinging to his arm. It is everything she fears. The promise, about him cutting ties with Jinsol, from this morning feels like a cruel joke now, a false hope offered. She bites her lip, trying to steady her breathing. The new routine, the finals, everything feels overshadowed by this sharp, sudden pain of perceived betrayal. All she can do is hope that Jihoon is indeed "figuring things out" and not just playing into Jinsol's hands.

Jinsol pulls Jihoon towards a curve at the far end of the sports complex, the pillars providing privacy for the pair. He quickly frees his wrist from her grip, not wanting to make physical contact more than needed. “What's wrong, oppa? You look so stressed,” Jinsol wonders, noticing his perceived odd behavior.

Jihoon takes one step forward, closing the distance without being too close. “Look, Jinsol-ah. I appreciate your support for me and the team, but… it's starting to feel…” He trails off momentarily, unable to find the correct word for it. “I don't know, it's distracting, I guess.” Her eyebrows furrow, the joy melting away from her face, her heart flinching with hurt at his choice of adjective. “What is that supposed to mean, oppa?” she protests, her voice laced with irritation. “Just get to the point, please: are you going out with someone else and looking to leave me?”

Jihoon sighs, but unlike when he was with Yoona, it's not out of relief. Rather, it is a product of his tension that is growing heavy. “Sweetheart, please,” he murmurs, hoping that the pet name will reach the soft spot in her heart. “There isn't no one else right now. It's just that I need to focus on the finals, and as much as I'm honored to have your support, I can't afford to be distracted.”

Jinsol's lower lip trembles, and her eyes, which moments ago were sharp, now fill with a wounded glint. "Distracted?" she whispers, her voice quivering, as if deeply hurt. She shakes her head slowly, a tear welling up and tracing a path down her cheek. "I thought... I thought we had something special, oppa. After all this time, all my efforts... you're just going to throw it away because of a game?" She reaches out, her hand gently touching his arm, her gaze pleading. "Don't you care about—mmph…”

Before Jinsol manages to finish her pushing sentence, Jihoon interrupts her, stifling her lips with… with his. She melts into him, reactively putting her hands on his chest, but he's quick to break away. “I'm sorry, but this is for the best. Please remember me by the taste of my lips,” he says, his voice deep with a sense of finality, of closure. “I’ll go back to practice now, and please, go find something else to do. I'm begging you, Jinsol-ah.”

Jinsol falls onto the floor, covering her mouth as sobs begin to flood out, deeply struck by his rejection. The kiss did very little in terms of providing comfort, but it was certainly final. “Oppa…” she mutters between sobs. As her cries grow, Jinsol leans against the pillar, hugging her legs in a ball. “Please don't forget about me,” she pleads.

Heading back inside the gym, Jihoon rushes towards the other court, his steps thumping against the smooth surface. “Where is Seol Yoona?” he asks the crowd of cheerleaders. Surprised by his sudden appearance and demanding voice, one of them simply points at the restroom. “Great. Thank you,” Jihoon says with no tenderness in his tone.

Jihoon turns to make his way towards the restroom, unwavered by the thought of possibly having to enter the female’s section. As luck would have it, however, Yoona is walking out. Her fresh makeup gives him the idea that she likely just finished crying and re-applied it.

Yoona gasps as her gaze lands on him. “Hi there,” he says. “We need to talk.” Unable to say anything else, she simply nods, walking behind Jihoon as he leads her away from the gym.

Jihoon leads Yoona down a quiet corridor, away from the echoing sounds of the gym, stopping at a secluded alcove near a rarely used exit. He turns to face her, his gaze intense. The earlier brusqueness in his demeanor fades, replaced by a deep concern as he sees the lingering hurt in her eyes.

"Yoona-yah," he begins, his voice softening, a stark contrast to moments before. "I saw you. I saw you watching us, and I know what it must have looked like." He pauses, taking a deep breath. "But you have to believe me, it's not what you think. I wasn't... I wasn't trying to be with her. I was cutting ties. Just like I promised you this morning, and I have done exactly that." He searches her face for any sign of understanding, any flicker of the trust they built hours ago.

Yoona’s stare towards the ground, his purple shoes suddenly very attractive. “But… you were kind to her, right?” she asks, more concerned about Jinsol than herself. “What did you say to her, oppa?” Jihoon closes his eyes, the taste of Jinsol’s lips still lingering on his. “I said I couldn't afford to be distracted,” he answers.

“Distracted…” she echoes. “What about me? Am I not distracting you?” Jihoon shakes his head, firm in his stance about her presence in this trying time. “No, you're not. I mean, you never demand my attention, do you, dear?” he answers.

Yoona finally lifts her gaze, her eyes meeting his. The lingering hurt is still there, but a flicker of something else—hope, perhaps—begins to fight through it. "So… you really meant it?" she whispers, her voice fragile. "About… us?"

Jihoon reaches out, his hand gently cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear she hadn't realized had fallen. "Every word, sweetheart," he says, his voice a low, earnest rumble. "Especially the part about you."

Yoona nods, her resolve gaining strength again, her cheek rubbing against his palm, and that's when Jihoon quickly removes his hand. “Oh my God, I'm so sorry,” he exclaims, only remembering that his hand is dirty after touching basketballs for so long. “Oh, no, your face is dirty, baby,” he adds, guilt rising within him for ruining her fresh makeup. She giggles, smacking his arm lightly. Not out of anger, of course; just… playful frustration. “Don't worry about it, oppa. If anything, that's proof of my belonging to you.”

Settling in the front seat of the bus as usual, Jihoon puts on his headphones, tuning in to some piano to clear his mind before the final game. This game means much, much more to him; not only is this his final season as a collegiate player, but he now has Yoona. It is her that has been steadfast by his side, offering comfort and affirmation when he needs them most, a steady beacon for him to cling to.

Leaning against the window with his eyes closed, he doesn’t catch Yoona slipping into the empty seat next to him, taking her rightful spot. “Oppa,” she pokes his shoulder, a grin spreading across her face, “I’m here too, you know.” Seeing the beautiful smile of hers warms Jihoon’s heart, prompting him to smile. “I can see that, sweetie,” he says, his hand snaking around her waist, pulling her close. It’s no secret that the cheerleading team always travels together with the basketball team, but now that they’re more than strangers, it matters more.

Yoona settles comfortably into his side, nestling her head against his shoulder. The soft piano music from his headphones is a gentle hum against her ear, creating a private bubble around them amidst the low chatter of their teammates. "Nervous, oppa?" she whispers, her fingers gently tracing the lines of his arm.

Jihoon nods, a faint smile playing on his lips. He shifts slightly, pulling her even closer. "A little," he admits, his voice low. "But in a good way. Like everything's leading up to this, and... now that you're here, it feels different." He squeezes her gently. "Are you ready for your new routine?" His question is soft, filled with genuine interest, reminding her that his attention is fully on her now, even as the biggest game of his life awaits. Yoona nods against his shoulder, drawing strength from his solid presence. “Yes, and I’m going to make sure you don’t have anyone else to watch but me,” she replies, radiating the confidence that Jihoon loves the most.

The bus starts to roll, and the cabin is filled with the soft rumble of its engine. Jihoon takes a deep breath, collecting himself for the upcoming game, his arm tightening around Yoona’s body. She follows afterwards, taking a deep breath to steel herself before the grand performance, her body melting into him more, seeking comfort that only he can provide. Jihoon takes off his headphones, placing them over Yoona’s ears to help her relax. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I’ll wake you when we arrive.” Yoona hums softly, her eyes closing as she drifts to dreamland.

The rhythmic sway of the bus and the comforting warmth of Jihoon's arm around her pull Yoona deeper into sleep. It feels like moments later when a gentle tap rouses her. "We're here, sweetheart," Jihoon's murmurs, soft as the piano music that lulled her to sleep. Yoona blinks her eyes open, feeling refreshed, and straightens up as the bus comes to a complete stop. She glances at Jihoon, whose gaze is already fixed on the massive arena looming outside the window, a blend of intense focus and quiet anticipation on his face.

“Oppa…” she calls to him softly, her gaze following his, taking in the sight of the arena. “We’re going to be okay, right?” Jihoon turns his face towards her, looking at her with a tranquilizing expression. “Yes, we are. I’m going to give this everything I have. For you, and for me.” Yoona presses a gentle peck on his cheek, her heart filled with warmth that is most welcome. "For us, oppa.”

Players and cheerleaders get off the bus in a line, immediately met with a bunch of cameras that are aimed at them, the reality of the national grand final settling in the heart of each person. “It’s called a ‘grand final’ for a reason,” Jihoon thinks, somewhat familiar with the exposure that comes with it. Yoona’s close proximity to him makes him want to hold her hand as they walk towards the arena but doing so before these cameras might do more harm than good.

Jihoon's hand aches with the unspoken desire to reach for hers, but he keeps his arms stiffly at his sides, his jaw tight. He maintains a calm, focused expression for the cameras, accustomed to this kind of scrutiny. Beside him, Yoona walks with a quiet grace, her eyes forward, her steps in perfect sync with his, as if they're still moving as one, even without physical touch. He can sense her awareness of his proximity, a silent understanding passing between them that this public restraint is necessary, for now. The flashes of light, the murmuring crowd, and the sharp questions from reporters attempting to break through the security line are a dizzying blur, but he navigates it all with a singular focus: getting them both safely inside the arena, where their private world could re-establish itself.

After settling their things in the locker room, the players and cheerleaders gather, forming a big circle in the center of it. “Guys, listen to me, please,” Jihoon starts, taking point as both the captain and the senior. “First of all, please remember to stay safe at all times, and I’m talking about you girls,” he adds, his index finger tracing a line across the row of cheerleaders. Yoona bites her bottom lip to stop herself from blushing; even if his attention isn’t focused on her, being addressed by him as a part of a crowd still gives her the butterflies.

"And to my team," Jihoon continues, his gaze sweeping over the basketball players, his voice firming. "We’re here as champions, and everyone has been gunning for us, giving us a run for our money, but we came out on top every single time. So, let's come out on top one last fucking time." He pauses, letting his words sink in, then his gaze softens slightly as he looks back at the cheerleaders. "We couldn't do this without your energy and support. So, let's go out there and show them what we're made of. All of us." A unified roar of agreement ripples through the circle, a powerful surge of collective determination. “Win on three. One, two, three, win!”

The unified roar reverberated off the locker room walls, a tangible wave of shared adrenaline. Jihoon's eyes met Yoona's across the circle, a silent acknowledgment passing between them—a flash of their private promise amidst the collective energy. Then, the huddle breaks, each person taking a spot to form two lines to head out together. With a subtle tilt of head, Jihoon gestures to Yoona to stand at the end of their respective queue.

An event coordinator signals to the cheerleaders to head out first, and as the line begins to move, Yoona gives him one last squeeze of hand, an unspoken promise that she’ll be there, pouring everything she has into supporting him, and by extension, the basketball team. Jihoon watches as she walks away from him, hypnotized by her wiggling ponytail, smiling like a fool in love. Well, he is a fool in love.

Soon, the same coordinator gives the signal for Jihoon’s team to enter the arena, but as he steps closer towards the end of the tunnel, he is stopped. “Captains enter last—you know, for the TV,” he says. Jihoon chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. “It wasn’t like this last year,” he quips. The coordinator chuckles with him. “We’re trying out new things each year, captain.”

The arena announcer’s voice grows louder, more excited, as he calls for the captains of each team to come out. “I guess that’s my cue.” Jihoon straightens his posture, fixing the jacket hanging on his shoulders, only hanging by a small rope connecting each end of the collar. He gets a few taps on his shoulder, confirming that it’s time for him to walk out of the dark tunnel and into the brightly lit court.

Jihoon walks out at the same time as the other team’s captain and a fellow senior, Park Taehyun, offering a nod to acknowledge his presence, the crowd bursting into energetic screams at the sight of the two. As he joins his team, Jihoon’s gaze roams the stands, indicating to those present that he acknowledges their overwhelming presence, offering smiles and nods where he can.

Jihoon's eyes finally land on the cheerleading section, a familiar warmth spreading through him as he spots Yoona. Her bright smile and energetic waves are unmistakable for him, and he feels a subtle surge of confidence that has nothing to do with the roar of the crowd. He gives her a quick, almost imperceptible nod and a private, genuine smile before turning his full attention to the center court. The referee blows the whistle, signaling the start of the coin toss, and the anticipation in the arena becomes a tangible force, ready to erupt with the game's first play.

Jihoon’s team win the tip-off thanks to the center’s quick reaction. The ball gets passed to him right away, music resembling a countdown playing over the speakers as he navigates across the court, the bouncing ball an extension of his controlled will. His calculated passes cause chaos in the defense, creating separation all over the floor. Eventually, the ball finds its way back to Jihoon, right as he’s closing in towards the hoop, and with practiced movement, he scores the first basket of the game, thus earning excited screams from both the crowd and the cheerleaders, not excluding Yoona.

The game intensifies, the scoreboard ticking steadily, yet the tension in the arena only grows. Jihoon is everywhere, a blur of blue and white, orchestrating plays, sinking shots, and denying the opposition. The other team, however, desperate to close the widening gap, pushes back with aggressive drives and tight defense.

Mid-second quarter, the opposing team's power forward, a burly player named Kim Donghwan, drives hard to the basket. Jihoon meets him as he jumps, a fierce battle for the rebound ensuing as the shot clanks off the back board. Donghwan, off-balance from the collision with Jihoon and the sudden shift in momentum, stumbles wildly out of bounds. He trips over the baseline advertising, his massive frame tumbling awkwardly. Before anyone can react, he crashes directly into the cheerleading line, specifically into Yoona.

Panicking at the sight of his girlfriend sprawling, Jihoon quickly rises to his feet, rushing towards her. Jihoon grabs Donghwan by the hips, pulling him to his feet with all his might, more concerned about Yoona than anyone else. “Get out of here,” he snarks, his hand, planted on Donghwan’s chest, pushing him backwards. “Get your fucking hand off me,” Donghwan barks back, slapping his hand away in anger. Nine times out of ten, Jihoon would crash out, but this one time, he doesn’t take the bait; Yoona needs help, and anger isn’t going to help her.

A wave of whistles immediately shrills through the arena, cutting through the sudden, stunned silence that followed the collision. Jihoon ignores them, his gaze fixed on Yoona. She's still on the floor, one hand pressed to the back of her head, her eyes squeezed shut in pain. He drops to his knees beside her, his earlier aggression vanishing, replaced by profound worry.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" he asks, his voice tight with concern, gently cradling her head. Around them, chaos erupts. Teammates from both sides rush forward, referees try to separate the players, and the crowd murmurs anxiously. Donghwan, still seething, is being pulled away by his coach. Jihoon barely registers any of it; his world has shrunk to just Yoona, lying still on the cold, hard court.

“Baby, please say something,” he says, his stomach clenching with worry. Yoona’s free hand scrambles, trying to find him, her anchor in this sea of pain. “It… hurts,” she manages. “I know, I know,” Jihoon hurries, carefully rubbing the back of her head, trying to ease the sting. Realizing he can’t stay for long, he turns to one of her teammates, asking her to call the medics. “You’ll be fine, baby.” With a heavy heart, Jihoon lets go of Yoona, returning to his duties as a basketball player, his mind replaying the scene of the tumble.

Jihoon forces his attention back to the court, the referee's whistle a sharp demand for order. His teammates gather around him, their faces etched with concern, but he waves them off, a grim determination setting his jaw. The game clock has stopped, leaving the arena in a thick, uneasy silence broken only by the distant murmur of the crowd. He glances back quickly, seeing the medical team rushing towards Yoona, a small circle of worried cheerleaders already surrounding her. He has to trust them. He has to play. The adrenaline that had surged with panic now channeled itself into a cold, hard resolve. Every dribble, every pass, every shot in this game would now be for her.

A referee heads to the scoring table, a microphone being brought to him for an announcement. “A technical foul is called for player number twenty from Juwan University. Two free throws for Yeonseo University,” he announces, making appropriate gestures as he does. Jihoon’s teammates choose him to take those free throws, but he declines; his mind is not fully in the game, still distracted by the incident involving she who holds his heart. “Just take it, man,” he says.

Minjun, their shooting guard, steps forward without a word, picking up the ball. He knows Jihoon too well, understands the unspoken weight of his captain's gaze on the medical team. Jihoon watches as Minjun calmly stands in the spot, focuses on the rim, and sinks both free throws with a satisfying swish. The scoreboard shifts, adding two precious points to their tally, but Jihoon barely registers it. His eyes are still fixed on the sideline, where Yoona is now being carefully helped onto a stretcher, a white neck brace stark against her cheerleading uniform. He watches her, his heart clenching with every slow, deliberate movement of the medics. He can't go to her, not yet, but he feels every ounce of her pain as keenly as if it were his own.

Noticing the distracted captain, Coach Kang calls for a substitution, giving someone else, who is more focused on the game, to take Jihoon’s spot on the court. As he’s signing off, Jihoon gets a smack to the back of his head; Kang is expressing his disappointment. “Focus, or you’ll regret it,” he threatens. Jihoon offers a nod, but his mind barely grasps the coach’s words; there’s simply no space in his head for the game.

The whistle signaling the end of the first half blows, the players clearing out of the court to give room for the cheerleaders to perform their routine. Jihoon joins his team, retreating to the locker room for a half-time pep talk, a towel covering his head. Passing through the tunnel with his eyes aimed at the ground, he notices a girl rushing out—those shoes look familiar too.

“Oppa!” Jihoon hears her yell and reactively lifts his head: it’s Yoona, no longer showing signs of being hurt, her energetic form returning as if she didn’t hit her head less than ten minutes ago. A pleasant shiver runs down his spine, opening his arms to welcome her. “Later, oppa,” she declines, zipping past him. “I need to perform first!” His eyes follow her as she disappears into the light. “She’s not giving up, is she?” he thinks, his resolution regaining strength at the face of Yoona’s unwavering spirit.

Jihoon walks into the locker room, his stride now imbued with a different kind of energy. Coach Kang looks at him, a questioning glance, and Jihoon offers a confident nod, the towel still draped over his head but his eyes blazing with renewed focus. The image of Yoona's fierce determination, her confident, steady attitude, burns bright in his mind. He pulls the towel off, wiping his face, and steps into the huddle, ready for whatever the second half throws at them. The championship, and everything Yoona represents, feels within their grasp now.

Jihoon concentrates, putting everything that the coaches are saying into his mind. Their instructions to “find space” and “move the ball around” tell him just enough about his roles in the second half, his basketball mind primed. “And you,” Kang points at him, “are you ready to play, or are you still mourning your girl?” Jihoon chuckles, almost insulted by the question about his readiness. “I am ready,” he answers firmly, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “Put me in, and I’ll do everything you want me to.”

Jihoon and company return to the court, standing in the sidelines as they wait for the cheerleaders to finish. His eyes quickly find Yoona among the crowd, performing with everything she has. Each smile and movement remind him of her promise: “I’m going to make sure you don’t have anyone else to watch but me.” Jihoon’s smile grows bigger, drawing strength from her presence, admiring her strong resolve to always give her best in everything she does. “You’re amazing, Seol Yoona,” he praises her silently.

Soon, the ref's whistle for the start of the second half pierces the arena, and Jihoon explodes from the bench, his feet already moving with a purpose that wasn’t there moments ago. He takes the inbound pass from Minjun and quickly takes the ball over to the other half, already finding the mismatch he wants; the player guarding him is bigger—and therefore slower—and he is about to put him in the wringer.

With a chain of precise dribbles and crosses, Jihoon manages to make his opponent trip on his own feet, creating a mile of separation, and he exploits it right away. With the ball settled in his hands, Jihoon rises to take a shot from beyond the three-point line. The crowd, initially amazed by the ankle-breaker, explodes into deafening cheers. With a cocky smirk, Jihoon puts a finger on his earlobe, riling up the crowd to scream louder for him.

As he returns to his team’s side of the court, Jihoon spots Yoona. She’s cheering him on, bouncing up and down on the spot, her pom-poms skipping along with her, and the sight sends his heart soaring with pride. He points right at her. “For you,” he mouths.

When the final horn pierces through the arena, Jihoon drops to his hands and knees, the depths of his exhaustion finally settling in his mind. He tunes out the sound of the erupting crowd, focusing only on the back-to-back championship and what it means for him. The captain, in his last year of competition, signs off with a parting gift that is most sweet.

As he stays on the floor, someone crashes into him, demanding his attention. “Yoona-yah…” he murmurs, pulling the crying girl into his arms. “This one is yours, baby.” Yoona hides her face in the crook of his neck, sobbing out of control in his arms. “This one is yours,” he repeats, punctuating it with a tender peck to the top of her head, smiling in pride at this achievement.

Nestling in the front seat of the bus once more, Jihoon immediately pulls Yoona closer to him, closing the little gap between them. “We did it, baby,” he whispers, his voice nearly gone from screaming too much during the celebration. “Yes—yes, we did,” she confirms, her hand finding purchase on his chest, rubbing it tenderly. “Congratulations, my love,” she adds, looking at him with glassy eyes, threatening to break down crying again.

As the bus starts rolling to take them home, Yoona rests her head on his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his like they were hours ago. “Oppa, can we celebrate a little?” she asks, looking for a reason to be with him longer. “Yeah, we can. What are you thinking, Yoona-yah?” Yoona shifts around, positioning her lips right beside his ear. “We can… try having sex.”

Jihoon's breath hitches. The soft rumble of the bus, the distant cheers from outside, all fade into a blur. His grip on Yoona's waist tightens reflexively, his mind reeling from her whispered words. He pulls his head back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes, which are now wide and earnest, reflecting the dim light of the bus cabin. A slow, warm smile spreads across his face, a mix of surprise, tenderness, and an unmistakable excitement.

"Yoona-yah," he murmurs, his voice still hoarse, but now filled with a different kind of intensity. "Are you serious?" He searches her gaze, not for doubt, but for confirmation. Her cheeks flush a delicate pink, but her eyes hold steady, a silent, confident affirmation. "Yes," she whispers, her hand pressing more firmly against his chest. "Be my first, oppa."

Jihoon's smile softens even further, becoming purely tender. He gently moves his hand from her waist to cup her cheek, his thumbs stroking softly. "Yoona-yah," he whispers again, his voice now a low, husky rumble, filled with overwhelming emotion. "You trust me with that?" A smile forms on Yoona’s face as she nods to his question, her trust in him immense. The trust that tells her, in his arms, she will be safe and loved. “Then yes,” he breathes, leaning closer to her. “I will be your first, and I’ll cherish every single moment, my heart.”

Yoona pecks him on the cheek, her heart warm with his promise to cherish the monumental moment they will share. “We’ll be happy, right, oppa?” she asks, hope lying beneath her pleading voice. “Of course, baby. We’ll be happy together.” Jihoon pecks her in return. Not on her cheek, but on her head, his nostrils filled with the subtle scent of her shampoo.

The soft hum of the bus engine became a comforting lullaby as Yoona settles deeper into Jihoon's side. With his arm securely around her, and her head resting on his shoulder, the weight of the championship, the earlier scare, and the boldness of their shared confession all seem to melt away, leaving only a profound sense of rightness. Jihoon looks out the window, watching the city lights blur past, a contented smile playing on his lips. This is more than just a victory; it is a new beginning, a quiet promise of a future he is now more than ready to embrace, hand in hand with his Yoona.

The bus arrives back at the university after what feels like a moment, as Jihoon and Yoona get lost in their own world where peace is the name of the game. “Yoona-yah…” he taps her shoulder gently, whispering her name as to not startle the exhausted girl. “Wake up, baby. We’re here.” Her eyes flutter open, looking around the bus to find it nearly empty. “W-where’s everyone?” she asks. “Well, they got off moments ago. It’s now our turn,” he says, pressing a light kiss to her forehead to kick-start her body after the slumber.

“Oppa, I can’t walk.” Jihoon’s eyebrows furrow, concern etched in the lines of his forehead. “Are you hurt?” Yoona shakes her head, a playful, teasing smile starting to form. “No, but… I do want to be carried—you know, like you’re abducting me,” she teases. He bursts out laughing, shaking his head simply out of mirth. “Yeah, let’s do that. I hope no one thinks I’m actually abducting you.”

As his laughter dies down, Jihoon gets down on one knee beside her, tapping his shoulder a few times. "Hop on, my little abductee," he jokes, flexing his shoulders playfully. Yoona giggles, getting on his shoulder, her belly pressed firm against it. Even exhausted, Jihoon feels a surge of strength at her light weight. As he stands, adjusting his grip on her back, he looks around the near-empty bus, then out the window at the quiet university grounds. "Ready for your grand abduction?" he whispers, his voice filled with tender amusement. Yoona buries her face in his neck, the soft rumble of his laughter echoing in her ears. "Lead the way—ah, oppa!”

Yoona yelps when Jihoon suddenly runs out of the bus. As if not feeling the weight of the duffel bag in his hand or the girl on his shoulder, Jihoon darts across the parking lot, really getting in the act of pretending to be abducting her. “Oppa, oppa, slow down!” she protests, whacking his back while giggling, not actually scared about any of this. “I can’t slow down. The cops are on me,” he jokes, his voice steady despite running. Yoona laughs even more at his quip, so much so that her saliva drips out of her lips.

Just as Jihoon rounds a corner past the main dormitory, a familiar voice calls out. "Min Jihoon? Is that you?" He skids to a halt, Yoona letting out another surprised yelp. It's Coach Kang, walking briskly with one of the assistant coaches, clearly just leaving a late meeting. Kang's eyes widen, first in surprise, then amusement, as he takes in the sight of his star player carrying the cheerleader captain like a fugitive. Yoona immediately buries her face deeper, trying to become one with Jihoon's back.

"Uh, Coach," Jihoon manages, trying to stifle a laugh and regain some composure. "Just... an emergency escort." Coach Kang simply shakes his head, a wide smile spreading across his face. "Right. Well, try not to get too abducted, Miss Seol—and you, my boy, try not to get a speeding ticket. Well, see you both bright and early for team photos!" He walks past, chuckling, leaving Jihoon and Yoona in a fresh wave of embarrassed laughter.

Jihoon stands still as Kang and the other coach walks away, his cheeks burning with after getting caught frolicking with Yoona. “God, that’s so embarrassing,” she sighs, her cheeks also burning, “can we… I don’t know, get to our destination soon?” He chuckles once more, getting ready to start running again. “Alright, baby. We’re almost there.”

Jihoon tightens his grip, and then, with a renewed burst of energy, he sprints the last hundred meters. He veers off the main path, cutting through a small, shrub-lined shortcut leading directly to the back entrance of his dormitory. The building lights are mostly out, indicating the late hour and the general quiet. He slows as they reach the door, fumbling for his keycard with one hand while still holding her securely with the other. "Home sweet home, my abductee," he whispers, a hint of something deeper in his tone now. Yoona lifts her head from his shoulder, her eyes sparkling in the dim light.

“Wait, this… doesn’t feel like a regular student’s dormitory,” she blurts, offering the result of her brief observation. “No, not really,” he replies. “Student-athletes don’t live like other students.” Her jaw drops, surprised by the revelation. Yoona never knows that people like Jihoon get special treatments. “You’re joking,” she says, but he just shrugs. “College sports bring in loads of money, and we get our privileges for bringing in that money,” he adds.

Stopping in the middle of the hallway, Jihoon carefully lowers Yoona onto her feet, straightening her crumpled jacket and hair. "Seriously? So, you guys have, like, private rooms and, like, better food?" Yoona asks, her voice still laced with disbelief, momentarily forgetting their playful pretense. "Something like that. Think of it as a thank-you for all the blood, sweat, and tears we put in for the good name of the university."

He reaches a door with a discreet number plaque, tapping his keycard on the scanner. "Anyway, we can discuss the economics of collegiate sports later." He nudges the door open with his elbow, revealing a meticulously kept room, the interior full of shiny furniture. "For now," he whispers, his voice dropping to a tender murmur as he guides her inside. "How about we focus on that celebration you mentioned?"

Yoona steps into the plush carpeted room, her eyes widening slightly at the tasteful, minimalist decor and the sprawling view of the university grounds outside the large window. The door clicks softly shut behind them, muffling the last distant sounds of campus. The air inside is cool and still, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the arena and the bus. She turns, her gaze meeting Jihoon's, and the playful teasing from moments before completely vanishes. His eyes, warm and earnest, are fixed solely on her. Without a word, she steps forward, her hands finding his chest, and comes in for a kiss.

Their lips meet softly at first, a gentle exploration filled with the weight of the day's events and the unspoken promise of the night. It's a kiss that speaks of gratitude, relief, and a burgeoning intimacy. Jihoon's hands instinctively land on her waist, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh, holding her with utmost possessiveness. Yoona's arms tighten around his back, pulling him closer, seeking the solid comfort of his presence. The world outside their private sanctuary fades away, leaving only the feel of each other's lips, the warmth of their embrace, and the quiet beating of their hearts.

“Seol Yoona, my heart, I promise to always prioritize us,” he murmurs when they finally break apart. Yoona presses her face against his chest, basking in his manly scent, taking his promise to heart. “Lead us, oppa,” she says, her voice muffled. “Not because I can’t, but because I trust you.” Her words strike deep in his heart, her expectations of him, of their future, crystal clear for him to see. “You promise to always support me, right, baby, because I need you.”

Yoona pulls away, looking up at him, her eyes gleaming with determination. “Of course, oppa,” she says. “I’m giving you my first time as… say, proof of my commitment.” Jihoon inhales sharply at the mention of her innocence, the weight of the moment pressing down on him, but he’s committed to this relationship as much as she is.

“I’m giving you my first time too, baby,” he replies. Yoona nods, remembering his confession about never having a girlfriend, understanding the implications of this encounter. Tonight isn’t just about her giving him the honor of being her first, but she’s also getting the honor of being his first. “You’ll be my first and last, because I don’t want no one else but you,” he adds.

Jihoon's gaze, filled with unwavering devotion, searches her eyes once more, confirming the powerful connection now binding them. He then gently takes her hand, his thumb stroking her knuckles. "Come on, my heart," he whispers, his voice thick with tenderness and anticipation. He doesn't need to ask if she's ready; her presence, her words, everything about her radiates a resolute willingness.

He leads her towards the bed, taking slow steps along with her. “Lie down, please,” he whispers. “I promise you; this bed is far superior to yours.” Yoona giggles as she lies flat on his bed, the mattress sinking slightly at her weight. “It is comfortable,” she confirms. “But… I want you to be with me, oppa, and I’m not talking about lying next to me.” Before joining her, Jihoon takes off his hoodie, revealing his toned physique that she hasn’t seen before. “Goodness me…” she mumbles, her eyes darting around his torso, taking every little detail of him. “No wonder Bae Jinsol fell so hard for you.”

Jihoon places his finger on her lips, bothered by the name she just said. “Please don’t, baby,” he warns her, his voice still soft, only mildly aggravated. “No one else matters like you do.” Yoona closes her eyes, silently scolding herself for saying another name so carelessly. “I’m sorry, my heart,” she says. “That… will never happen again.” He presses a soft, fleeting peck to her lips, as if permanently stifling them from mentioning Jinsol’s name. “You’re forgiven, my love.”

Jihoon's eyes, now clear and focused only on her, move from her lips to her eyes, then down to the simple uniform she still wears. He offers a tender smile, a silent question in his gaze. "Relax, my love," he murmurs, his fingers gently reaching for the zipper of her jacket, beginning to undo it. Yoona takes a shaky breath, a shiver running through her that has nothing to do with cold, but everything to do with anticipation and trust. She watches his hands, then meets his gaze, a silent surrender in her eyes as he slowly, deliberately, begins to strip away the layers that separate them.

“Take me, my love…”

Jihoon's hands tremble slightly as he finishes unzipping her jacket, letting it fall open. Yoona's breath hitches, her chest rising and falling with quickened anticipation. He pushes the jacket from her shoulders, then the thin fabric of her top, revealing the soft curve of her collarbones, then the delicate lace of her bra. His gaze is reverent, taking in every detail as if seeing her for the very first time. He leans in, his lips finding hers in a slow, deep kiss that speaks of awe and unwavering devotion, a silent promise to honor the incredible trust she places in him.

He pulls back just enough to murmur against her lips, "My heart, are you sure?" Yoona's eyes, wide and filled with a luminous trust, meet his. She nods, a silent, resolute affirmation. Her hands find the hem of his joggers, pulling them down with a shaky determination that matches his own. Their clothes fall to the floor in a heap around them, the last barriers between their bodies. He shifts above her, supporting his weight on his forearms, allowing her to adjust, to breathe.

Their skin meets, a rush of warmth and undeniable friction. Jihoon moves slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving hers, seeking permission in every subtle shift of her expression. Yoona arches into him, a soft gasp escaping her lips as their bodies align, becoming one. He listens to her reactions, to her soft moans, to her pained grunts, guiding their movements with a tenderness that seeks only her pleasure and comfort. The air in the room thickens with their shared breaths, with the growing intensity of their connection.

“My love…” she murmurs, her chest rising and falling quickly, the acute pain subsiding to give way to stellar pleasure. “I’m… I’m yours.” Jihoon presses his lips against the skin of her neck, his hips still moving steadily. “And I’m yours, my heart…” he replies, his gentle voice akin to music to her ears.

The world outside the private dormitory room ceases to exist. There is only the rhythm of their bodies, the whisper of skin against skin, and the profound intimacy of two souls merging for the very first time. Jihoon moves with a deliberate, loving pace, ensuring that each sensation is shared, each moment cherished. Yoona clings to him, her fingers digging into his back, her earlier tension melting into a pure, incandescent pleasure. In this sacred space, amidst the quiet hum of the night, their unspoken promises culminate in a profound act of love, marking a new, indelible beginning for their hearts.

“I… I won’t last long like this, my love,” he murmurs, hoping she will understand his inexperience. Amongst her moans, Yoona nods, acknowledging the quick pace at which this encounter is progressing. “You don’t have to, oppa,” she replies. “Just let go and give me everything you have. Show me your love.”

Jihoon's body tenses, a low groan escaping his throat as he pours every ounce of his being into the moment. Yoona's grip on his back tightens, her fingers digging into his skin as her own pleasure surges, meeting his. The air crackles with their shared intensity, their breaths ragged gasps that mingle in the quiet room. Then, with a final, shuddering release, Jihoon collapses against her, his weight heavy but comforting. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, his body still trembling, their skin slick with sweat.

“I love you, Seol Yoona,” he whispers, his voice rough from his release. “I love you more, oppa—oh, you’re so… warm…” Jihoon chuckles a little, but it’s not amusement; it’s an innocent person’s reaction to someone else’s innocence—or rather, the loss of it. “Let’s lie still and… savor this for now, baby.” Yoona nods, content in the knowledge that she’s loved and cherished, but her eyelids are getting heavy. “You can sleep a little if you want,” he says. Jihoon pecks her forehead, as if pressing a button to send her to sleep.

Yoona's breathing evens out almost immediately, her body relaxing completely against his. Jihoon shifts slightly, pulling the soft blanket up over them, cocooning them in warmth. He closes his eyes, savoring the subtle scent of her hair against his cheek, the steady rhythm of her breath against his chest. The exhaustion from the game, the emotional rollercoaster of the day—the tension, the injury scare, the victorious cheers, and their tender confessions—all melt away, replaced by a profound, peaceful contentment. This quiet intimacy, lying tangled together after such a momentous step, feels like the truest victory of all. Outside the window, the soft glow of the university lights shimmer, a silent witness to the quiet triumph within. The night is still young, but for Jihoon and Yoona, their story is just truly beginning.

#girl group smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader #male reader smut #smut #nmixx smut

445 notes · View notes