away game
Title: Away Game
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kai/Lay
Genre: Football AU
Word Count: 800
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and the characters are not mine.
The transfer doesn’t come as a surprise, but it still feels like a brick flung in his face. In truth, he gets it. He knows why Yixing’s leaving. But it doesn’t hurt any less.
Jongin doesn’t know how to confront Yixing about it. “At least we have him till the end of the season,” Minseok mentions quietly when they’re stretching before practice, and that’s the closest anyone’s come to talking about it.
It boils over in a friendly match against a rival club. The game’s going according to plan, they’ve got a good rhythm and they’re passing well. Yixing’s out in the left, dribbling with the same precision and ease that had caught the attention of so many other clubs. Jongin’s being tailed, but he can lose his guy; that he knows-and Yixing knows as well-
Yixing sends the ball to an empty space, right where Jongin’s predicted he would. He reaches the ball easily, weaves past the last defender and scores. Yixing beams, running up to him before faltering, remembering the tension between them. Their celebration is muted, even more so because Jongin’s head is reeling. They read each other so easily. They’re a team, the two of them, and Jongin tries and tries to imagine playing without Yixing at his flank and draws a blank.
“Don’t leave,” he almost whispers in the locker room, when everyone else has cleared out.
“We’re talking about this now, huh?” Yixing mutters, and Jongin admits, yes, he deserves that. He gave Yixing the cold shoulder for weeks, brushing past him in practice and responding to his greetings with curt replies fully intended to wound.
“Don’t leave,” he repeats dumbly, because it’s all he can say right now.
“You know I have to,” Yixing says, gentler this time. “I can’t-with Taeyong here now, you guys have the midfield covered, I can’t play anymore, not how I used to. I don’t have a place here.”
“Taeyong worships you,” Jongin tries, grasping at straws. Anything, to make Yixing stay.
Yixing huffs a small laugh. “He does you, too.”
“Minseok hyung coddles you like nobody else, Taozi’s sarcastic to everyone but you, our massage therapist has the most gigantic crush on you-”
“Baekhyun does?” Yixing sounds surprised.
Jongin rolls his eyes. “Yes, you’re the only one who doesn’t know.”
“I see,” Yixing nods sagely.
“And I don’t trust Sehun, from that team. I mean, you’ve seen the looks he gives you on pitch, those puppy eyes, he thinks that works-”
“Jongin,” Yixing interrupts, amused. “I can look after myself. I think I’ll be fine.”
“I won’t be,” he says. The words sting as they leave his mouth, but he knows them to be true, down to the marrow of his bones. Yixing doesn’t just hold his world steady on the field, but off it as well; he is rock and shelter, heart and home.
Yixing steps closer, reaches out for him desperately. “I’m leaving the club. I’m not leaving you.”
Jongin doesn’t see the difference.
A sigh. “Come on.” Yixing tips his head and leaves the locker room. The lights in the stadium are already out, but Yixing grabs a ball from the edge of pitch and wanders forward.
“You want to play? Now?”
“When was the last time we did this together, just the two of us? Come on.”
Jongin huffs but he follows Yixing, he always does. All Yixing has to do is ask. They face each other on the pitch. This is how he will see Yixing from now on. Against him, not beside.
“Come on,” Yixing says again.
Jongin moves, Yixing anticipates, stealing the ball and zooming off-“And it’s Yixing on the offense now,” he narrates, “the midfielder of the century, Jongin has no chance, no chance at all, look at him waddling behind-
Jongin snorts, the streak of competitiveness in him showing its teeth, and adds a burst of speed to hook the ball away from Yixing’s feet-
It’s too dark, and they end up tripping over each other and landing in a pile on the pitch, but Jongin is laughing for the first time in weeks.
“Foul,” Yixing says, voice threaded with mirth. “Look at this nasty diver, card him for it, I say, give him a red-”
He elbows Yixing in the ribs, and they break into laughter again. Jongin’s chest expands with every gasping breath he takes. The night air is cold and crisp, Yixing is warm against him.
“See? It doesn’t have to hurt,” Yixing says softly, but Jongin thinks he sounds unsure himself. “Facing me doesn’t have to hurt.”
It already does. But it’s quiet around them, and Jongin lies still with the feel of soft grass on his back and exhales, staring up at the stars to avoid looking at the arch of Yixing’s neck.
----
1. Exo as footballers I can see it.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kai/Lay
Genre: Football AU
Word Count: 800
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and the characters are not mine.
The transfer doesn’t come as a surprise, but it still feels like a brick flung in his face. In truth, he gets it. He knows why Yixing’s leaving. But it doesn’t hurt any less.
Jongin doesn’t know how to confront Yixing about it. “At least we have him till the end of the season,” Minseok mentions quietly when they’re stretching before practice, and that’s the closest anyone’s come to talking about it.
It boils over in a friendly match against a rival club. The game’s going according to plan, they’ve got a good rhythm and they’re passing well. Yixing’s out in the left, dribbling with the same precision and ease that had caught the attention of so many other clubs. Jongin’s being tailed, but he can lose his guy; that he knows-and Yixing knows as well-
Yixing sends the ball to an empty space, right where Jongin’s predicted he would. He reaches the ball easily, weaves past the last defender and scores. Yixing beams, running up to him before faltering, remembering the tension between them. Their celebration is muted, even more so because Jongin’s head is reeling. They read each other so easily. They’re a team, the two of them, and Jongin tries and tries to imagine playing without Yixing at his flank and draws a blank.
“Don’t leave,” he almost whispers in the locker room, when everyone else has cleared out.
“We’re talking about this now, huh?” Yixing mutters, and Jongin admits, yes, he deserves that. He gave Yixing the cold shoulder for weeks, brushing past him in practice and responding to his greetings with curt replies fully intended to wound.
“Don’t leave,” he repeats dumbly, because it’s all he can say right now.
“You know I have to,” Yixing says, gentler this time. “I can’t-with Taeyong here now, you guys have the midfield covered, I can’t play anymore, not how I used to. I don’t have a place here.”
“Taeyong worships you,” Jongin tries, grasping at straws. Anything, to make Yixing stay.
Yixing huffs a small laugh. “He does you, too.”
“Minseok hyung coddles you like nobody else, Taozi’s sarcastic to everyone but you, our massage therapist has the most gigantic crush on you-”
“Baekhyun does?” Yixing sounds surprised.
Jongin rolls his eyes. “Yes, you’re the only one who doesn’t know.”
“I see,” Yixing nods sagely.
“And I don’t trust Sehun, from that team. I mean, you’ve seen the looks he gives you on pitch, those puppy eyes, he thinks that works-”
“Jongin,” Yixing interrupts, amused. “I can look after myself. I think I’ll be fine.”
“I won’t be,” he says. The words sting as they leave his mouth, but he knows them to be true, down to the marrow of his bones. Yixing doesn’t just hold his world steady on the field, but off it as well; he is rock and shelter, heart and home.
Yixing steps closer, reaches out for him desperately. “I’m leaving the club. I’m not leaving you.”
Jongin doesn’t see the difference.
A sigh. “Come on.” Yixing tips his head and leaves the locker room. The lights in the stadium are already out, but Yixing grabs a ball from the edge of pitch and wanders forward.
“You want to play? Now?”
“When was the last time we did this together, just the two of us? Come on.”
Jongin huffs but he follows Yixing, he always does. All Yixing has to do is ask. They face each other on the pitch. This is how he will see Yixing from now on. Against him, not beside.
“Come on,” Yixing says again.
Jongin moves, Yixing anticipates, stealing the ball and zooming off-“And it’s Yixing on the offense now,” he narrates, “the midfielder of the century, Jongin has no chance, no chance at all, look at him waddling behind-
Jongin snorts, the streak of competitiveness in him showing its teeth, and adds a burst of speed to hook the ball away from Yixing’s feet-
It’s too dark, and they end up tripping over each other and landing in a pile on the pitch, but Jongin is laughing for the first time in weeks.
“Foul,” Yixing says, voice threaded with mirth. “Look at this nasty diver, card him for it, I say, give him a red-”
He elbows Yixing in the ribs, and they break into laughter again. Jongin’s chest expands with every gasping breath he takes. The night air is cold and crisp, Yixing is warm against him.
“See? It doesn’t have to hurt,” Yixing says softly, but Jongin thinks he sounds unsure himself. “Facing me doesn’t have to hurt.”
It already does. But it’s quiet around them, and Jongin lies still with the feel of soft grass on his back and exhales, staring up at the stars to avoid looking at the arch of Yixing’s neck.
----
1. Exo as footballers I can see it.