RUN (TILL YOUR DREAMS TAKE FLIGHT) ; XIUHAN, PG PART 1
Title: Run (Till Your Dreams Take Flight)
Paring: Xiuhan, bff!Chansoo
Rating: PG
Word Count: 15,840 how did you even get this long /sobs
Summary: Minseok leaves Korea for football, the one thing he cannot give up, but in China, he finds something - rather, someone that he will never be able to give up either.
Note: Soccer!au. To my recipient; All your prompts was amazing and I had a difficult time choosing which one but alas, I did it.
To my betas; J, D, S (ヽ(；▽；)ノ(ღ˘⌣˘ღ)), thank you, thank you so much for all of your help. I know there were a lot of issues and hysterical moments from me, but we pulled through. You guys helped keep me sane.
Disclaimer: I don’t know a thing about soccer/football. I also use the terms ‘soccer’ and ‘football’ interchangeably.
Written for certainangles in minseokful
He hadn’t really expected anyone to see him off at the airport, but actually seeing that no one was there stung a bit more than he had expected. Kyungsoo and Chanyeol had insisted on taking him there but Minseok had just given a small smile and told them it wasn’t worth the trouble.
The January sun shone bright, but even with it being high noon, Incheon was cold. Minseok burrows deeper into the woolen scarf wrapped tight around his neck, shivering in the wind. Kyungsoo had given him the old thing so many years ago when Minseok would show up at practice, nose and cheeks pink with cold, head curled into his shoulders.
Taking one last sweeping glance around Incheon airport, Minseok didn’t feel the curl of homesickness or nostalgia as he had anticipated.
With a bitter smile on his lips, he pushes his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and walks through the airport doors without a second glance, a certain gladness that he was finally leaving.
China was as cold as Korea, maybe even colder. Minseok sadly left behind the warm airport in favor of the cold city air, struggling with the influx of Chinese words being slung at him.
The whole scene swam around him and for a brief delirious moment, Minseok was stuck with regret, his fist tightening around his suitcase, confusion threatening to turn into panic. Taking deep breaths, he swallows down the panic, consoling himself with assurance that he had prepared months ahead to make sure that his arrival would be as smooth as possible.
Clutching the basic Chinese greetings book like a lifeline, Minseok took off in a fast walk to the nearest stalling taxi, his 3 years of Chinese lessons in high school seemingly forgotten. Minseok manages to garble out enough mangled Mandarin for the taxi driver to understand where he needs to go and the taxi is off, puttering away from the airport.
The lone man stares out of the window, watching the high rise buildings pass and the bustle of the capital of China. It was similar to Seoul with the way people walked; detached from reality and attached to their electronics, the way that cars honked loudly to each other trying to fight their way through traffic, the way Minseok felt an encompassing loneliness looking at the city of a million people.
Weaving its way through streets unfamiliar to him, the taxi came to a rolling stop in front of a building that he recognized through pictures on his laptop. The driver put the car in park as Minseok stared at the number on the dashboard totalling his expense for the trip. Fumbling through his bag, he counted the appropriate amount of bills, handing it to the driver with a curt thanks. Grabbing his few suitcases from the back of the taxi, Minseok stepped away from the taxi and shed the name, identity, and past life of a Kim Minseok.
Picking up his keys at the front desk, he stared at the faded sofa and the large sign stuck on the one vending machine that didn’t exactly scream comfort and home. Thankfully, the man manning the front desk seemed friendly enough, sympathetic towards Minseok’s lack of Chinese. Giving up on stuttering out more inaccurate Mandarin, Minseok slid up a sheet of paper with his handwriting scrawled across it, asking for his apartment keys and where he was going to be. With an amused grin, the receptionist rang a bell and hollered until a lanky youth sauntered up to help him with the few suitcases that Minseok had brought with him. Chattering the entire way up to his apartment, the bellboy dropped off his things with an expectant look until the Korean man had dropped a bill on the youth’s outstretched hand. The tall boy disappeared around the corner without a second glance, as though oblivious to Minseok’s look of bewilderment.
Staring at the red door, Minseok read the numbers on the side making sure that he had the correct apartment. Glancing at the direction the boy had skipped off in, he heaved a sigh and slid the key into the lock. Minseok pushed the door open to be welcomed with a plume of dust hitting him like a wave.
Coughing, he surveyed the deteriorated condition of the apartment. To say that the place was in an ok condition was a bit of an exaggeration. The off white walls stared back at him, the corners of the last half attempted paint job peeling while the used to be white tiles were approaching a shade closer to brown than white. An itch to douse the entire thing in bleach crawled under his skin and he shuddered. The small golden ray in the mess was that at least the apartment had a working heater, no colder than the lobby that he had strolled into.
Eyeing the mess, Minseok just sighed to himself, thinking that he hadn’t even brought cleaning supplies with him. He tugged his meagre possessions through the doorway, arranging them to take up as little space as possible. Minseok was bent on ignoring the chaos that was currently his apartment, grabbing his wallet and a copy of his visa. He wrote down all the things that he would need to buy on a slip of paper, writing in both Korean and when he could remember, Mandarin.
Feeling the cold nip at his nose when he slipped out of the apartment, Minseok pulled his scarf closer around his neck. Locking the door behind him, the Korean made his way out of his apartment complex after getting the receptionist to draw him a rough sketch of the nearest supermarket. Deeming it on a walking distance, he began his journey to the Justco that the man had claimed to only be a few blocks away.
The said few blocks turned out to be many, many blocks that Minseok found himself trudging to get to. The noise, the bustle, the newness of the city has his head spinning, confusion swirling around until Minseok is 100% sure that he is lost. Arriving at that conclusion, he huffs and stares dejectedly at the haphazardly drawn map that Minseok admitted, made absolutely no sense at all.
Kim Minseok was lost in the heart of Beijing on his first day.
Just about to concede on walking until he found himself back at the hotel or flagging down a taxi to get him to the address, there was a meek tap on his shoulder.
Turning around, Minseok stared wide eyed at a bright eyed youth who had a guitar slung over his shoulder and a smile on his lips. “Are you ok?” the youth asked, blinking rapidly at the bewildered Korean. Thankfully, even Minseok’s tiny amount of Mandarin informed him that the Chinese native had asked if he was ok.
“Erm. I...lost?” Minseok mumbled back in Mandarin.
Eyes darting between Minseok’s face and the sketch in his hand, the stranger asked, “Justco?”
Minseok gasped, nodding fast. “You know where is?”
“Yes, it’s just around the corner.” He pointed in the direction where Minseok assumed the market was. The youth suddenly jabbed at his chest before clearly saying, “Yixing.”
Confused, Minseok blinked. “Yixing?” he repeated, wondering if it was some word that he didn’t know.
“Me. My name is Yixing,” the stranger introduced himself, his speech slowing down to enunciate each word. Even though he was speaking slower, there was a certain lilt to his speech that didn’t sound like the language program that Minseok had been learning from in Korea. Perhaps a dialect, Minseok chalked it up to. “Your name is…?”
After a moment of squinting, his brain translated the simple question and there was another moment before he was able to correctly say, “My name is Xiumin.”
“Xiumin,” Yixing echoed back and Minseok felt himself return the smile the taller man gave him. My name is Xiumin, Minseok firmly says to himself as though to remind himself. Xiumin. Minseok doesn’t exist in China. Not anymore. Not ever again.
Through a lot of complicated and exaggerated hand motions, the pair begin to start moving in the direction that Yixing had motioned to and which Minseok had assumed where the market was, praying that the dimpled man was as harmless as he looked.
By the time the two had ended up in front of Justco, Minseok could proudly say that he had learned at least 3 new words and acquired a decent sketch of the area to find his way back home. On the way there he had given up on his half assed Mandarin and just asked Yixing to pull out his phone to google translate from Korean to Chinese. They had somewhat managed to communicate, Yixing giving him his phone number for when Minseok would get a new phone and for the inevitable need for help in the new city.
Yixing had seen him off with a cheerful wave and dimpled smile at the front of the Justco. Minseok had promised to call or text the moment he got his phone set up and the Chinese man had gone off on his merry way.
Wandering the aisles, Minseok squinted at the splash of Chinese characters and looked down at the note that Yixing had graciously given him as he translated all the supplies that he would need. Up one aisle, down the other, the furrow between his eyes lessening as he manages to find all the things that he came to the store for. Satisfied, Minseok made his way to the front of the store before a blast of cold air made him pause.
The enlarge pictures of the various cold treats made it easy enough for Minseok to give in to temptation and swipe a few into his basket with the feeble excuse of ‘in case Yixing comes over’. Honestly, buying the ice cream in the dead of winter was ridiculous, but Minseok never really could deny himself of comfort food. It was the least that the could give into considering that he had moved himself to a whole new country with nothing more that a few bags full of items and high school level Chinese.
Armed with his cleaning supplies, a few choice vegetables, ice cream cones, and overpriced Korean essentials, he bravely made his way home.
Activity more muted, Beijing was obviously beginning to wind down, people arriving home from work, mothers finishing dinner to serve, and young families walking hand in hand from parks. Here, Minseok blended in. He was anonymous, just another young male coming home from the grocery store, maybe even a college student out on a store run if they looked at his face. This is what he had craved for back at home.
No, it wasn’t home anymore to him. It represented hurt and betrayal, not something you can call home. It’s in the past.
Shaking his head to clear away the cobwebs of the past, Minseok ignored the dusty glow of the city and just think of going home. He had come to a new country, a new city, a new life, and most importantly, a new chance to start over. He is not the same person that died in Seoul.
“Hello?”
“Er, hello, is this Yixing?” Minseok stutters.
A short pause and then, “Oh yes! Yes, this is Yixing.”
Yixing’s voice sounds raspy. Maybe he was asleep? “I’m sorry, did I called at a bad time? I can call back later,” Minseok said to the receiver, fingers twisting into the hem of his shirt.
“No, no it’s fine. Who is this?” the mild voice delicately asks.
“This is Xiumin, the man you helped find the way to Justco the other day.”
“Ah! Ah yes, your accent sounded familiar.”
Minseok pauses, words slowly translating and he repeats, “Accent?”
“The way you say things, the way your words sound.”
Minseok just nods slowly, before the silence stretches and he realizes with a little mental ‘duh!’ that Yixing obviously cannot see him. “Oh! Oh, ok, um, so I just wanted to call since you said to call you when I got my phone…” he trails off, leaving the ‘because I don’t have anyone else to call.’ He had only known the poor guy for about an hour.
“Congratulations!” Yixing’s cheerful voice shocks him out of his small monologue, “How do you like Beijing so far?”
He shrugs, even though knowing that Yixing can’t see him, “It’s...been a little difficult since I don’t know too much Chinese, but I’m getting through ok.”
Yixing hums from the other end and Minseok is almost sure that the other man is going to hang up (or he’s trying to decipher Minseok’s stilted Mandarin?). “Have you seen the sights yet?” he asks.
“Huh?”
“The sights. The locations. Sight-seeing?”
Minseok frowns into the receiver before slowly saying, “Not yet.”
“Perfect! I have Wednesday off, would you happen to be free?”
“Y-yeah!” Minseok blinks rapidly, wondering if he had just managed to find a kindred soul amongst the millions of others that resided in this city.
He hears a loud bang in the background of Yixing’s side and then there’s a commotion that includes a lot of Mandarin and a lot of people. He manages to hear snatches of his new friend’s name and then there’s suddenly Yixing again on the line. “Ok! Ok!” he calls to someone on his side, “Sorry, my friends are here to pick me up, but is 1:30 at the front of the Justco that day ok?”
Minseok chirps his assent quickly, grabbing a pen to jot down what Yixing had said and then the line drops dead barely half a second later after Yixing says his goodbye, an impatient friend cutting the conversation short.
The unexpected interruption in their conversation leaves a hollow ache nestling somewhere between lonely and nostalgia, and he’s all too reminded of his high energy team mates back in Seoul. Baekhyun was always too high strung and Chanyeol was always too boisterous, but they had always given them a weary smile. Ex-team mates, a small voice chimes in the back of his head and then the loneliness seems to grow a little more painful.
He makes a little mental note to kakao Kyungsoo and Chanyeol after his attempt to set up wifi in his recently clean apartment.
Group chat > Buttresses 3
Hyung-nim: I got my phone set up
Yeol Master: minseok-hyung! i was just wondering if u were dead yet!!
⊙♡⊙: Stop being stupid, Chanyeol.
@China man: How have you been?
Hyung-nim: ㅋㅋㅋ, of course not, Yoda.
@200cm: Struggling. Coming to Beijing only able to string together basic sentences are hard when dealing with so much paperwork >.>
Yeol Master: ksoo!!! that’s mean! and min-hyung, i was so worried for u ㅠㅠ
⊙♡⊙: Yoda’s right, we have been worried.
Yeol Master:（；_；）dongsaeng...u hurt me so. (U nvr call me hyung….)
⊙♡⊙: ...
Minseok laughs, something that’s been missing for the past few days, and then he realizes how much he really misses his friends. But the loneliness is only miniscule to the amount of pain he felt in Seoul.
Yeol Master: minseok-hyung! [Minseok’s pretty sure that Chanyeol can only type with exclamation marks.] tell us everything from start to finish!!!
Minseok can almost see Kyungsoo’s eye roll and he’s only all too glad to entertain his friends to help forget the hours that stretch ahead before he can get himself back into cleats and on a field again.
Yixing shows him the typical Chinese sight, the Forbidden City, happily blabbering away in Chinese that Minseok only half catches but he’s grateful enough for the company. Yixing’s also kind enough to not pry. He asks things like “where did you learn Chinese” or “are you more of a taxi or subway guy” in which Minseok can easily answer “4 years of high school Chinese” or “subway”, instead of struggling with things like “why are you in China” and “I can’t answer that”. Yixing is easy to talk to, and they fall into an even easier friendship.
Minseok mainly gets through the day with the help of google translate and a little notebook that Minseok had eventually learned to keep with him because it turned out he remembered how to write better to speak, tongue catching on all of the tones. Yixing had been pleasantly surprised when he saw Minseok’s handwriting, making a comment about how neat the characters were.
The day passes by quickly and Minseok is waving goodbye to the man under a flickering streetlamp, filled with a lot more information that he came with.
Somewhere between the times of texting Kyungsoo and Chanyeol on what he had done that day and falling asleep he finds himself thinking about the past. Maybe it’s because he had just texted his friends or maybe because he was too tired so his mind wanders but he finds himself thinking about...Jongin.
The name springs unbidden in his head and Minseok can’t banish the thought out. His chest constricts and he can’t breath for a second, throat all clogged up. Regardless of the pain that sweeps from his head to his toes, his heart still skips and resumes at double the speed.
Minseok knows that he shouldn’t dwell, he’s only going to hurt himself but Jongin stays in his mind, snippets of Jongin’s smile, Jongin’s clear laugh, Jongin’s sleepy whining, stuck in his mind like gum under a desk.
And so that’s how he falls asleep on his 3rd day in Beijing, with sticky cheeks and lashes stuck together but a hand that refuses to acknowledge the wetness that slowly drips onto his pillow.
It’s not an easy sleep that night.
Minseok’s got paint that is beginning to crust under his nails and he’s pretty sure that his hair is half white when his phone rings on the kitchen counter. Frowning at the awkward timing, he places the roll brush back on the tray and grabs a towel to hold his phone.
With some maneuvering and a swipe of his elbow across the screen, Minseok manages to pick up the call and he answers tentatively, “Hello?”
“Hello? Is this Jin Xiumin?” the deep timbre of a male’s voice questions.
Shifting himself to lean his hips against the counter, Minseok lifts the phone to see if he has a caller ID but Minseok always forgets to input numbers into his contacts list so the digits just stare up at him with no recognition. “Yes, yes this is him speaking.”
“Perfect. This is Flying Dragon’s manager-”
Minseok furrows his brows and tries to remember why the name sounds familiar.
“and I was just calling to make sure that you were still going to come in next Monday for your formal tryout.”
There’s a beat of silence before he plainly adds, “And first day.”
It finally clicks and Minseok makes a small noise, “Yes, yes! Of course! I’ll be there. It’s the field next to the 34 Building, correct?”
“That’s the place. There are locker rooms and I already set one aside for you. You could come early if you’d like to meet your teammates.”
Minseok hesitates, fingers absently gripping the towelette, “Sure. That sounds great. What time would you like me to come in?”
He quickly makes a mental note to set his alarm at 6am on Monday before chirping goodbyes into his phone and the line goes dead.
Tilting his head away from the awkward position, Minseok lets the phone and the towel slide down from his shoulder, falling onto the kitchen counter with a loud clatter. He brought his hand up to rub across his face but the strong scent of paint stops him before he left stress paint marks on his face. The sudden weariness makes his shoulders sag and left him tired, exhausted, and lonelier than ever.
Minseok’s gaze slowly zoomed onto a medium sized, dark duffle bag, set in a rump near the front door. In there were his well beat up cleats, his guards, and a deflated soccer ball along with a few other things that he felt like he just couldn’t let go. The soccer player hadn’t brought much with him to China, aside from the duffle bag, necessities, and some choice photographs that his friends hadn’t allowed him to leave the country without.
Even though Minseok felt his body twitch with all the stored up energy from taking a break from soccer because of the hassle that the big move had came with, he knew that taking the time away from the field was better for him. Besides, the move had exhausted him and right now he needs to finish coating the living room to make the place look a little less run down.
Another wall, a good long soak in the bath, and dinner was on his to-do list today and time was ticking. So with a long suffering sigh and a small wiggle of his shoulders as a weak attempt to shake away the fatigue, Minseok picks himself off the counter and makes to finish off painting the living room.
Trying to swallow down the lump in his throat, Minseok makes his way to meet his would be teammates for the next 2 years. Feet dragging unconsciously, stomach tied in knots, Minseok hasn’t been this nervous since the first time he had last made a team. It was the feeling of walking into a team of people who have worked months, years together, all their relationships already formed. Among all these close knit people, he, a stranger was going to have to walk in and try to find his own niche.
It wouldn’t be anything new, but knowing that these people had probably already labeled him - the foreigner, the new guy - it made the knots a little tighter and his palms clammier.
The walk from the subway to the field was a blur, feet taking him in what he had hoped was the correct direction. But regardless of how phased out Minseok was, the sight of the field had jarred him back to reality, a sinking feeling replacing the knots.
Breathe, Minseok tries. He let his feet stop, feeling like lead weight tied to his legs. Breathe in. Breathe out.
The uneasiness fades slightly with each breath.
Chin up.
With a straight spine and tight mouth, Minseok crosses the last bit to meet his new teammates.
The easy, jostling conversation that Minseok could hear from a distance died down to a questioning silence as he strides into their midst. He could feel them dissecting him bit by bit, from his black roots pushing from under his last dye job, to the worn sneakers he had laced up numbly this morning.
“Just on time!” a now familiar voice rumbles out and Minseok turned to greet the man who had claimed to be Flying Dragon’s manager.
The man was tall, that bit strikes Minseok immediately. He’s good looking in a casual manner that could easily be polished up to disarmingly handsome. His smile was kind, expression open in an attempt to not spook the Korean.
The small whispers that had started up from the time that someone recognized him as the new guy quiet down as the manager steps up to the nervous man.
“Zhou Mi,” the man breezily offers at Minseok’s miniscule bow, sticking his hand out for a handshake.
They say you can tell a lot about a man from his handshake, and if that were to be true, then Minseok could tell that Zhou Mi is an easy going man with a sort of firmness about him.
Praying that his palms weren’t as sweaty as he thought they were, Minseok hands back a “Jin Xiumin.”
With a grin equally friendly as polite, Zhou Mi turns to the players milling about, many pausing in whatever they were doing to observe the newcomer, and announces him to the team, “As you guys knew, we were going to receive a new forward after Bo had to move onto bigger, better things.”
The players just nod their heads, respectful enough to hold their tongues. It was easy to see how much authority Zhou Mi held over the players.
“This here is Jin Xiumin and from today onwards, he’ll be joining the Flying Dragons and hopefully help us grow even more. Let us be friends and work together as a team, alright?”
A general noise of consent answered his question.
Zhou Mi gave Minseok a little cuff on the shoulder and said, “Now I know this team has a number of rascals-” Minseok could see a few of the players shifting to stare at a few selected players, one of which shot back a crooked grin, “but I want you to get to know Xiumin as teammates and I want you all to treat him well. He’s got quite the impressive track record and we wouldn’t want to scare him away.” A few audience members roll their eyes at the manager but nod anyway.
The next bit is aimed more toward Minseok than the gathered team, but Zhou Mi says it with a gentleness that not many possess, “Welcome to the Flying Dragons, Xiumin.”
Releasing his lower lip, not even realizing that he had been gnawing on it for who knows how long, Minseok tries to give a small smile and says in the clearest accent he can manage, “Thank you.”
“Alright! Introductions!” Zhou Mi calls out. There’s some noise as players drop whatever they were doing before Minseok had strolled in and they gathered into a slightly more organized mass.
“Me first,” Zhou Mi began, pointing to his broad chest, “I’m Zhou Mi, as I said before, and I am the stand in manager of the team as well as a defender. Normally our coach would be here but he doesn’t usually come in until practice starts. Only the players are expected to be here before practice officially starts.”
Minseok dips a quick nod and hopes the no one expects him to memorize every face in the next 15 minutes.
The man with sharp cheekbones and twinkling eyes pipes up next, “I’m Jin Chen. Sweeper and resident intelligent.” His playful introduction is immediately met with a chorus of disagreement and one man, with a short haircut and impressive eyebrows, snorts and jabs the shorter man in the ribs. Chen cackles, delighted at their response, not even a bit off put off by their negative reaction.
Zhou Mi eyes him with equal parts judgement and humor before moving on, “And who else…?”
“Wu Yifan,” the tall man, around the height of Zhou Mi, and impressive eyebrows grunts. “I am the captain of the team and I am the goal keeper.”
“It’s because of his giant hands,” Chen interjects and this time Chen is shoved by 3 other people and it just lightens up the atmosphere and with a small pang, Minseok is quick to realize how tightly knit this team is. They treat each other like close friends and Minseok was hesitant to try to step into something so intimate. He wasn’t too shy, for sure, but he had been told that he was difficult to open up, reluctant to wear his heart on his sleeve.
Introductions flew by from then, Yun Yu with the broad shoulders, Hangeng with good looks as equal to Zhou Mi (was everyone on this team good looking???), Henry, the Canadian who had come back to China for football, Luhan with his soft features contrasting with his rough speaking manner, Zitao with sharp feline eyes and lips, and the pleasantly surprising familiar face of Zhang Yixing, flashing his dimple.
When Minseok had departed for home, sun warm and high in the sky, a break between when the team would meet up again at a nearby indoor field, the sinking feeling in his belly was nothing but a past memory and he had laughed and smiled enough in getting to know his teammates that the expected loneliness just seems much less heavier.
Although Yixing had invited Minseok out for lunch with the rest of the team for a ‘first day’ sort of lunch, Minseok had politely declined, pleading that he already had lunch at home and that he needed a quick nap, his muscles screaming at him.
Group Chat > Buttresses 3
Hyung-nim: Met my team today
Hyung-nim: I think it went well. We have a break between practices. Morning practice runs from 7 to 11. Lunch and break and meet back at an indoor place at 4.
He sends the messages, after quickly scanning through Chanyeol’s and Kyungsoo’s meaningless conversation (mostly Kyungsoo picking on Chanyeol and Chanyeol being Chanyeol), much later that evening. Outside, street lamps have flickered on, crickets crying loudly. Inside, his damp hair is curling at his nape and there’s only his bedside lamp and his cell phone lighting up his room. Minseok knows that it won’t be long until his friends answer.
Hyung-nim: Oh, funny thing, too. Yixing, you know, the guy that’s been helping me in China, he’s on my team as well. What a small world, huh.
Yeol Master: whoaaa min-hyungggg. you sound like you had a great day *v*
⊙♡⊙: Yeah, cause he didn’t have to deal with you.
Minseok laughs, glad that through all the changes that had occurred in his life recently, his friends were a constant .
Yeol Master: Don’t be rude.
⊙♡⊙: Don’t be stupid-oh wait, that would be like telling you to stop breathing.
Yeol Master: hyUUUNG, HE’S BEING MEAN AGAIN!!@!
Hyung-nim: ok, ok. stop picking on Yeol, Ksoo, and Yeol, stop being such a brat. i know you can be, so don’t you even try whining.
Yeol Master: …
⊙♡⊙: >]
Yeol Master: ...this is abuse, y do i stay here
⊙♡⊙: because without us, you’d probably forget how to breath.
Yeol Master: ok, thats a little mean ;;
⊙♡⊙: …
Hyung-nim: …
Yeol Master: …
Yeol Master: why all the ‘...’s…?
⊙♡⊙: …
Hyung-nim: …
Yeol Master: ok, so maybe yr right….
Yeol Master: but thats so meaaaaaan
And they swap messages back and forth, easy, lighthearted, and again, for one more night, Minseok pretends that China isn’t as big or lonely or as painful as it seems.
Flying Dragons meet for practice 5 days a week, only taking Wednesday and Saturday off, which players are expected to work out or practice by themselves. Even though it isn’t official practice, the players get together in clumps of 4 to 6 players to practicewith each other on the days off, much more casual than any observed practice. Yixing invites him to all of the ones that he attends and Minseok declines at first, preferring his own company, but he eventually accepts, slowly being accepted by the team.
Practice is by no means easy, hours long and the physical exercise exhausting, but the sponsors pay for the players’ meals, equipment, and currently, Minseok’s rent, so he works hard, trying to catch up to his teammates and learn their specific playing styles. He’d grown up learning Korean techniques, so Coach Qu pays extra attention to him, to help him adapt.
Practice is manageable, his teammates are manageable, and he even manages to find a tea shop down the road from his apartment so all in all, Minseok is happy. They’re in off season at the moment, the season over a month ago, so they’re gearing up for the next season starting in March.
More often than not, Minseok is paired off with Luhan as they are the pair of strikers/forwards for the team. Most teams have 1 striker - Minseok was the striker for his old team back in Seoul, but this team was used to having 2 forwards, so when their old striker had left, they had looked for a new one - so working with another person who had experience and was used to having another person being able to read his actions without having to think, was difficult. Luhan wasn’t eager to help Minseok beyond what he had to, but it wasn’t like he was discouraging, either. He just wasn’t fond of the idea to have to get to know Minseok. It was clear that Minseok lacking in the knowledge on how to work as a pair slightly irritated Luhan but the new guy was quick to learn. And so, like everything in Beijing, Minseok learned how to manage.
The days pass by peacefully enough and that’s all that Minseok really wants anyway.
Part I | Part II | Part III
Paring: Xiuhan, bff!Chansoo
Rating: PG
Word Count: 15,840 how did you even get this long /sobs
Summary: Minseok leaves Korea for football, the one thing he cannot give up, but in China, he finds something - rather, someone that he will never be able to give up either.
Note: Soccer!au. To my recipient; All your prompts was amazing and I had a difficult time choosing which one but alas, I did it.
To my betas; J, D, S (ヽ(；▽；)ノ(ღ˘⌣˘ღ)), thank you, thank you so much for all of your help. I know there were a lot of issues and hysterical moments from me, but we pulled through. You guys helped keep me sane.
Disclaimer: I don’t know a thing about soccer/football. I also use the terms ‘soccer’ and ‘football’ interchangeably.
Written for certainangles in minseokful
He hadn’t really expected anyone to see him off at the airport, but actually seeing that no one was there stung a bit more than he had expected. Kyungsoo and Chanyeol had insisted on taking him there but Minseok had just given a small smile and told them it wasn’t worth the trouble.
The January sun shone bright, but even with it being high noon, Incheon was cold. Minseok burrows deeper into the woolen scarf wrapped tight around his neck, shivering in the wind. Kyungsoo had given him the old thing so many years ago when Minseok would show up at practice, nose and cheeks pink with cold, head curled into his shoulders.
Taking one last sweeping glance around Incheon airport, Minseok didn’t feel the curl of homesickness or nostalgia as he had anticipated.
With a bitter smile on his lips, he pushes his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and walks through the airport doors without a second glance, a certain gladness that he was finally leaving.
China was as cold as Korea, maybe even colder. Minseok sadly left behind the warm airport in favor of the cold city air, struggling with the influx of Chinese words being slung at him.
The whole scene swam around him and for a brief delirious moment, Minseok was stuck with regret, his fist tightening around his suitcase, confusion threatening to turn into panic. Taking deep breaths, he swallows down the panic, consoling himself with assurance that he had prepared months ahead to make sure that his arrival would be as smooth as possible.
Clutching the basic Chinese greetings book like a lifeline, Minseok took off in a fast walk to the nearest stalling taxi, his 3 years of Chinese lessons in high school seemingly forgotten. Minseok manages to garble out enough mangled Mandarin for the taxi driver to understand where he needs to go and the taxi is off, puttering away from the airport.
The lone man stares out of the window, watching the high rise buildings pass and the bustle of the capital of China. It was similar to Seoul with the way people walked; detached from reality and attached to their electronics, the way that cars honked loudly to each other trying to fight their way through traffic, the way Minseok felt an encompassing loneliness looking at the city of a million people.
Weaving its way through streets unfamiliar to him, the taxi came to a rolling stop in front of a building that he recognized through pictures on his laptop. The driver put the car in park as Minseok stared at the number on the dashboard totalling his expense for the trip. Fumbling through his bag, he counted the appropriate amount of bills, handing it to the driver with a curt thanks. Grabbing his few suitcases from the back of the taxi, Minseok stepped away from the taxi and shed the name, identity, and past life of a Kim Minseok.
Picking up his keys at the front desk, he stared at the faded sofa and the large sign stuck on the one vending machine that didn’t exactly scream comfort and home. Thankfully, the man manning the front desk seemed friendly enough, sympathetic towards Minseok’s lack of Chinese. Giving up on stuttering out more inaccurate Mandarin, Minseok slid up a sheet of paper with his handwriting scrawled across it, asking for his apartment keys and where he was going to be. With an amused grin, the receptionist rang a bell and hollered until a lanky youth sauntered up to help him with the few suitcases that Minseok had brought with him. Chattering the entire way up to his apartment, the bellboy dropped off his things with an expectant look until the Korean man had dropped a bill on the youth’s outstretched hand. The tall boy disappeared around the corner without a second glance, as though oblivious to Minseok’s look of bewilderment.
Staring at the red door, Minseok read the numbers on the side making sure that he had the correct apartment. Glancing at the direction the boy had skipped off in, he heaved a sigh and slid the key into the lock. Minseok pushed the door open to be welcomed with a plume of dust hitting him like a wave.
Coughing, he surveyed the deteriorated condition of the apartment. To say that the place was in an ok condition was a bit of an exaggeration. The off white walls stared back at him, the corners of the last half attempted paint job peeling while the used to be white tiles were approaching a shade closer to brown than white. An itch to douse the entire thing in bleach crawled under his skin and he shuddered. The small golden ray in the mess was that at least the apartment had a working heater, no colder than the lobby that he had strolled into.
Eyeing the mess, Minseok just sighed to himself, thinking that he hadn’t even brought cleaning supplies with him. He tugged his meagre possessions through the doorway, arranging them to take up as little space as possible. Minseok was bent on ignoring the chaos that was currently his apartment, grabbing his wallet and a copy of his visa. He wrote down all the things that he would need to buy on a slip of paper, writing in both Korean and when he could remember, Mandarin.
Feeling the cold nip at his nose when he slipped out of the apartment, Minseok pulled his scarf closer around his neck. Locking the door behind him, the Korean made his way out of his apartment complex after getting the receptionist to draw him a rough sketch of the nearest supermarket. Deeming it on a walking distance, he began his journey to the Justco that the man had claimed to only be a few blocks away.
The said few blocks turned out to be many, many blocks that Minseok found himself trudging to get to. The noise, the bustle, the newness of the city has his head spinning, confusion swirling around until Minseok is 100% sure that he is lost. Arriving at that conclusion, he huffs and stares dejectedly at the haphazardly drawn map that Minseok admitted, made absolutely no sense at all.
Kim Minseok was lost in the heart of Beijing on his first day.
Just about to concede on walking until he found himself back at the hotel or flagging down a taxi to get him to the address, there was a meek tap on his shoulder.
Turning around, Minseok stared wide eyed at a bright eyed youth who had a guitar slung over his shoulder and a smile on his lips. “Are you ok?” the youth asked, blinking rapidly at the bewildered Korean. Thankfully, even Minseok’s tiny amount of Mandarin informed him that the Chinese native had asked if he was ok.
“Erm. I...lost?” Minseok mumbled back in Mandarin.
Eyes darting between Minseok’s face and the sketch in his hand, the stranger asked, “Justco?”
Minseok gasped, nodding fast. “You know where is?”
“Yes, it’s just around the corner.” He pointed in the direction where Minseok assumed the market was. The youth suddenly jabbed at his chest before clearly saying, “Yixing.”
Confused, Minseok blinked. “Yixing?” he repeated, wondering if it was some word that he didn’t know.
“Me. My name is Yixing,” the stranger introduced himself, his speech slowing down to enunciate each word. Even though he was speaking slower, there was a certain lilt to his speech that didn’t sound like the language program that Minseok had been learning from in Korea. Perhaps a dialect, Minseok chalked it up to. “Your name is…?”
After a moment of squinting, his brain translated the simple question and there was another moment before he was able to correctly say, “My name is Xiumin.”
“Xiumin,” Yixing echoed back and Minseok felt himself return the smile the taller man gave him. My name is Xiumin, Minseok firmly says to himself as though to remind himself. Xiumin. Minseok doesn’t exist in China. Not anymore. Not ever again.
Through a lot of complicated and exaggerated hand motions, the pair begin to start moving in the direction that Yixing had motioned to and which Minseok had assumed where the market was, praying that the dimpled man was as harmless as he looked.
By the time the two had ended up in front of Justco, Minseok could proudly say that he had learned at least 3 new words and acquired a decent sketch of the area to find his way back home. On the way there he had given up on his half assed Mandarin and just asked Yixing to pull out his phone to google translate from Korean to Chinese. They had somewhat managed to communicate, Yixing giving him his phone number for when Minseok would get a new phone and for the inevitable need for help in the new city.
Yixing had seen him off with a cheerful wave and dimpled smile at the front of the Justco. Minseok had promised to call or text the moment he got his phone set up and the Chinese man had gone off on his merry way.
Wandering the aisles, Minseok squinted at the splash of Chinese characters and looked down at the note that Yixing had graciously given him as he translated all the supplies that he would need. Up one aisle, down the other, the furrow between his eyes lessening as he manages to find all the things that he came to the store for. Satisfied, Minseok made his way to the front of the store before a blast of cold air made him pause.
The enlarge pictures of the various cold treats made it easy enough for Minseok to give in to temptation and swipe a few into his basket with the feeble excuse of ‘in case Yixing comes over’. Honestly, buying the ice cream in the dead of winter was ridiculous, but Minseok never really could deny himself of comfort food. It was the least that the could give into considering that he had moved himself to a whole new country with nothing more that a few bags full of items and high school level Chinese.
Armed with his cleaning supplies, a few choice vegetables, ice cream cones, and overpriced Korean essentials, he bravely made his way home.
Activity more muted, Beijing was obviously beginning to wind down, people arriving home from work, mothers finishing dinner to serve, and young families walking hand in hand from parks. Here, Minseok blended in. He was anonymous, just another young male coming home from the grocery store, maybe even a college student out on a store run if they looked at his face. This is what he had craved for back at home.
No, it wasn’t home anymore to him. It represented hurt and betrayal, not something you can call home. It’s in the past.
Shaking his head to clear away the cobwebs of the past, Minseok ignored the dusty glow of the city and just think of going home. He had come to a new country, a new city, a new life, and most importantly, a new chance to start over. He is not the same person that died in Seoul.
“Hello?”
“Er, hello, is this Yixing?” Minseok stutters.
A short pause and then, “Oh yes! Yes, this is Yixing.”
Yixing’s voice sounds raspy. Maybe he was asleep? “I’m sorry, did I called at a bad time? I can call back later,” Minseok said to the receiver, fingers twisting into the hem of his shirt.
“No, no it’s fine. Who is this?” the mild voice delicately asks.
“This is Xiumin, the man you helped find the way to Justco the other day.”
“Ah! Ah yes, your accent sounded familiar.”
Minseok pauses, words slowly translating and he repeats, “Accent?”
“The way you say things, the way your words sound.”
Minseok just nods slowly, before the silence stretches and he realizes with a little mental ‘duh!’ that Yixing obviously cannot see him. “Oh! Oh, ok, um, so I just wanted to call since you said to call you when I got my phone…” he trails off, leaving the ‘because I don’t have anyone else to call.’ He had only known the poor guy for about an hour.
“Congratulations!” Yixing’s cheerful voice shocks him out of his small monologue, “How do you like Beijing so far?”
He shrugs, even though knowing that Yixing can’t see him, “It’s...been a little difficult since I don’t know too much Chinese, but I’m getting through ok.”
Yixing hums from the other end and Minseok is almost sure that the other man is going to hang up (or he’s trying to decipher Minseok’s stilted Mandarin?). “Have you seen the sights yet?” he asks.
“Huh?”
“The sights. The locations. Sight-seeing?”
Minseok frowns into the receiver before slowly saying, “Not yet.”
“Perfect! I have Wednesday off, would you happen to be free?”
“Y-yeah!” Minseok blinks rapidly, wondering if he had just managed to find a kindred soul amongst the millions of others that resided in this city.
He hears a loud bang in the background of Yixing’s side and then there’s a commotion that includes a lot of Mandarin and a lot of people. He manages to hear snatches of his new friend’s name and then there’s suddenly Yixing again on the line. “Ok! Ok!” he calls to someone on his side, “Sorry, my friends are here to pick me up, but is 1:30 at the front of the Justco that day ok?”
Minseok chirps his assent quickly, grabbing a pen to jot down what Yixing had said and then the line drops dead barely half a second later after Yixing says his goodbye, an impatient friend cutting the conversation short.
The unexpected interruption in their conversation leaves a hollow ache nestling somewhere between lonely and nostalgia, and he’s all too reminded of his high energy team mates back in Seoul. Baekhyun was always too high strung and Chanyeol was always too boisterous, but they had always given them a weary smile. Ex-team mates, a small voice chimes in the back of his head and then the loneliness seems to grow a little more painful.
He makes a little mental note to kakao Kyungsoo and Chanyeol after his attempt to set up wifi in his recently clean apartment.
Group chat > Buttresses 3
Hyung-nim: I got my phone set up
Yeol Master: minseok-hyung! i was just wondering if u were dead yet!!
⊙♡⊙: Stop being stupid, Chanyeol.
@China man: How have you been?
Hyung-nim: ㅋㅋㅋ, of course not, Yoda.
@200cm: Struggling. Coming to Beijing only able to string together basic sentences are hard when dealing with so much paperwork >.>
Yeol Master: ksoo!!! that’s mean! and min-hyung, i was so worried for u ㅠㅠ
⊙♡⊙: Yoda’s right, we have been worried.
Yeol Master:（；_；）dongsaeng...u hurt me so. (U nvr call me hyung….)
⊙♡⊙: ...
Minseok laughs, something that’s been missing for the past few days, and then he realizes how much he really misses his friends. But the loneliness is only miniscule to the amount of pain he felt in Seoul.
Yeol Master: minseok-hyung! [Minseok’s pretty sure that Chanyeol can only type with exclamation marks.] tell us everything from start to finish!!!
Minseok can almost see Kyungsoo’s eye roll and he’s only all too glad to entertain his friends to help forget the hours that stretch ahead before he can get himself back into cleats and on a field again.
Yixing shows him the typical Chinese sight, the Forbidden City, happily blabbering away in Chinese that Minseok only half catches but he’s grateful enough for the company. Yixing’s also kind enough to not pry. He asks things like “where did you learn Chinese” or “are you more of a taxi or subway guy” in which Minseok can easily answer “4 years of high school Chinese” or “subway”, instead of struggling with things like “why are you in China” and “I can’t answer that”. Yixing is easy to talk to, and they fall into an even easier friendship.
Minseok mainly gets through the day with the help of google translate and a little notebook that Minseok had eventually learned to keep with him because it turned out he remembered how to write better to speak, tongue catching on all of the tones. Yixing had been pleasantly surprised when he saw Minseok’s handwriting, making a comment about how neat the characters were.
The day passes by quickly and Minseok is waving goodbye to the man under a flickering streetlamp, filled with a lot more information that he came with.
Somewhere between the times of texting Kyungsoo and Chanyeol on what he had done that day and falling asleep he finds himself thinking about the past. Maybe it’s because he had just texted his friends or maybe because he was too tired so his mind wanders but he finds himself thinking about...Jongin.
The name springs unbidden in his head and Minseok can’t banish the thought out. His chest constricts and he can’t breath for a second, throat all clogged up. Regardless of the pain that sweeps from his head to his toes, his heart still skips and resumes at double the speed.
Minseok knows that he shouldn’t dwell, he’s only going to hurt himself but Jongin stays in his mind, snippets of Jongin’s smile, Jongin’s clear laugh, Jongin’s sleepy whining, stuck in his mind like gum under a desk.
And so that’s how he falls asleep on his 3rd day in Beijing, with sticky cheeks and lashes stuck together but a hand that refuses to acknowledge the wetness that slowly drips onto his pillow.
It’s not an easy sleep that night.
Minseok’s got paint that is beginning to crust under his nails and he’s pretty sure that his hair is half white when his phone rings on the kitchen counter. Frowning at the awkward timing, he places the roll brush back on the tray and grabs a towel to hold his phone.
With some maneuvering and a swipe of his elbow across the screen, Minseok manages to pick up the call and he answers tentatively, “Hello?”
“Hello? Is this Jin Xiumin?” the deep timbre of a male’s voice questions.
Shifting himself to lean his hips against the counter, Minseok lifts the phone to see if he has a caller ID but Minseok always forgets to input numbers into his contacts list so the digits just stare up at him with no recognition. “Yes, yes this is him speaking.”
“Perfect. This is Flying Dragon’s manager-”
Minseok furrows his brows and tries to remember why the name sounds familiar.
“and I was just calling to make sure that you were still going to come in next Monday for your formal tryout.”
There’s a beat of silence before he plainly adds, “And first day.”
It finally clicks and Minseok makes a small noise, “Yes, yes! Of course! I’ll be there. It’s the field next to the 34 Building, correct?”
“That’s the place. There are locker rooms and I already set one aside for you. You could come early if you’d like to meet your teammates.”
Minseok hesitates, fingers absently gripping the towelette, “Sure. That sounds great. What time would you like me to come in?”
He quickly makes a mental note to set his alarm at 6am on Monday before chirping goodbyes into his phone and the line goes dead.
Tilting his head away from the awkward position, Minseok lets the phone and the towel slide down from his shoulder, falling onto the kitchen counter with a loud clatter. He brought his hand up to rub across his face but the strong scent of paint stops him before he left stress paint marks on his face. The sudden weariness makes his shoulders sag and left him tired, exhausted, and lonelier than ever.
Minseok’s gaze slowly zoomed onto a medium sized, dark duffle bag, set in a rump near the front door. In there were his well beat up cleats, his guards, and a deflated soccer ball along with a few other things that he felt like he just couldn’t let go. The soccer player hadn’t brought much with him to China, aside from the duffle bag, necessities, and some choice photographs that his friends hadn’t allowed him to leave the country without.
Even though Minseok felt his body twitch with all the stored up energy from taking a break from soccer because of the hassle that the big move had came with, he knew that taking the time away from the field was better for him. Besides, the move had exhausted him and right now he needs to finish coating the living room to make the place look a little less run down.
Another wall, a good long soak in the bath, and dinner was on his to-do list today and time was ticking. So with a long suffering sigh and a small wiggle of his shoulders as a weak attempt to shake away the fatigue, Minseok picks himself off the counter and makes to finish off painting the living room.
Trying to swallow down the lump in his throat, Minseok makes his way to meet his would be teammates for the next 2 years. Feet dragging unconsciously, stomach tied in knots, Minseok hasn’t been this nervous since the first time he had last made a team. It was the feeling of walking into a team of people who have worked months, years together, all their relationships already formed. Among all these close knit people, he, a stranger was going to have to walk in and try to find his own niche.
It wouldn’t be anything new, but knowing that these people had probably already labeled him - the foreigner, the new guy - it made the knots a little tighter and his palms clammier.
The walk from the subway to the field was a blur, feet taking him in what he had hoped was the correct direction. But regardless of how phased out Minseok was, the sight of the field had jarred him back to reality, a sinking feeling replacing the knots.
Breathe, Minseok tries. He let his feet stop, feeling like lead weight tied to his legs. Breathe in. Breathe out.
The uneasiness fades slightly with each breath.
Chin up.
With a straight spine and tight mouth, Minseok crosses the last bit to meet his new teammates.
The easy, jostling conversation that Minseok could hear from a distance died down to a questioning silence as he strides into their midst. He could feel them dissecting him bit by bit, from his black roots pushing from under his last dye job, to the worn sneakers he had laced up numbly this morning.
“Just on time!” a now familiar voice rumbles out and Minseok turned to greet the man who had claimed to be Flying Dragon’s manager.
The man was tall, that bit strikes Minseok immediately. He’s good looking in a casual manner that could easily be polished up to disarmingly handsome. His smile was kind, expression open in an attempt to not spook the Korean.
The small whispers that had started up from the time that someone recognized him as the new guy quiet down as the manager steps up to the nervous man.
“Zhou Mi,” the man breezily offers at Minseok’s miniscule bow, sticking his hand out for a handshake.
They say you can tell a lot about a man from his handshake, and if that were to be true, then Minseok could tell that Zhou Mi is an easy going man with a sort of firmness about him.
Praying that his palms weren’t as sweaty as he thought they were, Minseok hands back a “Jin Xiumin.”
With a grin equally friendly as polite, Zhou Mi turns to the players milling about, many pausing in whatever they were doing to observe the newcomer, and announces him to the team, “As you guys knew, we were going to receive a new forward after Bo had to move onto bigger, better things.”
The players just nod their heads, respectful enough to hold their tongues. It was easy to see how much authority Zhou Mi held over the players.
“This here is Jin Xiumin and from today onwards, he’ll be joining the Flying Dragons and hopefully help us grow even more. Let us be friends and work together as a team, alright?”
A general noise of consent answered his question.
Zhou Mi gave Minseok a little cuff on the shoulder and said, “Now I know this team has a number of rascals-” Minseok could see a few of the players shifting to stare at a few selected players, one of which shot back a crooked grin, “but I want you to get to know Xiumin as teammates and I want you all to treat him well. He’s got quite the impressive track record and we wouldn’t want to scare him away.” A few audience members roll their eyes at the manager but nod anyway.
The next bit is aimed more toward Minseok than the gathered team, but Zhou Mi says it with a gentleness that not many possess, “Welcome to the Flying Dragons, Xiumin.”
Releasing his lower lip, not even realizing that he had been gnawing on it for who knows how long, Minseok tries to give a small smile and says in the clearest accent he can manage, “Thank you.”
“Alright! Introductions!” Zhou Mi calls out. There’s some noise as players drop whatever they were doing before Minseok had strolled in and they gathered into a slightly more organized mass.
“Me first,” Zhou Mi began, pointing to his broad chest, “I’m Zhou Mi, as I said before, and I am the stand in manager of the team as well as a defender. Normally our coach would be here but he doesn’t usually come in until practice starts. Only the players are expected to be here before practice officially starts.”
Minseok dips a quick nod and hopes the no one expects him to memorize every face in the next 15 minutes.
The man with sharp cheekbones and twinkling eyes pipes up next, “I’m Jin Chen. Sweeper and resident intelligent.” His playful introduction is immediately met with a chorus of disagreement and one man, with a short haircut and impressive eyebrows, snorts and jabs the shorter man in the ribs. Chen cackles, delighted at their response, not even a bit off put off by their negative reaction.
Zhou Mi eyes him with equal parts judgement and humor before moving on, “And who else…?”
“Wu Yifan,” the tall man, around the height of Zhou Mi, and impressive eyebrows grunts. “I am the captain of the team and I am the goal keeper.”
“It’s because of his giant hands,” Chen interjects and this time Chen is shoved by 3 other people and it just lightens up the atmosphere and with a small pang, Minseok is quick to realize how tightly knit this team is. They treat each other like close friends and Minseok was hesitant to try to step into something so intimate. He wasn’t too shy, for sure, but he had been told that he was difficult to open up, reluctant to wear his heart on his sleeve.
Introductions flew by from then, Yun Yu with the broad shoulders, Hangeng with good looks as equal to Zhou Mi (was everyone on this team good looking???), Henry, the Canadian who had come back to China for football, Luhan with his soft features contrasting with his rough speaking manner, Zitao with sharp feline eyes and lips, and the pleasantly surprising familiar face of Zhang Yixing, flashing his dimple.
When Minseok had departed for home, sun warm and high in the sky, a break between when the team would meet up again at a nearby indoor field, the sinking feeling in his belly was nothing but a past memory and he had laughed and smiled enough in getting to know his teammates that the expected loneliness just seems much less heavier.
Although Yixing had invited Minseok out for lunch with the rest of the team for a ‘first day’ sort of lunch, Minseok had politely declined, pleading that he already had lunch at home and that he needed a quick nap, his muscles screaming at him.
Group Chat > Buttresses 3
Hyung-nim: Met my team today
Hyung-nim: I think it went well. We have a break between practices. Morning practice runs from 7 to 11. Lunch and break and meet back at an indoor place at 4.
He sends the messages, after quickly scanning through Chanyeol’s and Kyungsoo’s meaningless conversation (mostly Kyungsoo picking on Chanyeol and Chanyeol being Chanyeol), much later that evening. Outside, street lamps have flickered on, crickets crying loudly. Inside, his damp hair is curling at his nape and there’s only his bedside lamp and his cell phone lighting up his room. Minseok knows that it won’t be long until his friends answer.
Hyung-nim: Oh, funny thing, too. Yixing, you know, the guy that’s been helping me in China, he’s on my team as well. What a small world, huh.
Yeol Master: whoaaa min-hyungggg. you sound like you had a great day *v*
⊙♡⊙: Yeah, cause he didn’t have to deal with you.
Minseok laughs, glad that through all the changes that had occurred in his life recently, his friends were a constant .
Yeol Master: Don’t be rude.
⊙♡⊙: Don’t be stupid-oh wait, that would be like telling you to stop breathing.
Yeol Master: hyUUUNG, HE’S BEING MEAN AGAIN!!@!
Hyung-nim: ok, ok. stop picking on Yeol, Ksoo, and Yeol, stop being such a brat. i know you can be, so don’t you even try whining.
Yeol Master: …
⊙♡⊙: >]
Yeol Master: ...this is abuse, y do i stay here
⊙♡⊙: because without us, you’d probably forget how to breath.
Yeol Master: ok, thats a little mean ;;
⊙♡⊙: …
Hyung-nim: …
Yeol Master: …
Yeol Master: why all the ‘...’s…?
⊙♡⊙: …
Hyung-nim: …
Yeol Master: ok, so maybe yr right….
Yeol Master: but thats so meaaaaaan
And they swap messages back and forth, easy, lighthearted, and again, for one more night, Minseok pretends that China isn’t as big or lonely or as painful as it seems.
Flying Dragons meet for practice 5 days a week, only taking Wednesday and Saturday off, which players are expected to work out or practice by themselves. Even though it isn’t official practice, the players get together in clumps of 4 to 6 players to practicewith each other on the days off, much more casual than any observed practice. Yixing invites him to all of the ones that he attends and Minseok declines at first, preferring his own company, but he eventually accepts, slowly being accepted by the team.
Practice is by no means easy, hours long and the physical exercise exhausting, but the sponsors pay for the players’ meals, equipment, and currently, Minseok’s rent, so he works hard, trying to catch up to his teammates and learn their specific playing styles. He’d grown up learning Korean techniques, so Coach Qu pays extra attention to him, to help him adapt.
Practice is manageable, his teammates are manageable, and he even manages to find a tea shop down the road from his apartment so all in all, Minseok is happy. They’re in off season at the moment, the season over a month ago, so they’re gearing up for the next season starting in March.
More often than not, Minseok is paired off with Luhan as they are the pair of strikers/forwards for the team. Most teams have 1 striker - Minseok was the striker for his old team back in Seoul, but this team was used to having 2 forwards, so when their old striker had left, they had looked for a new one - so working with another person who had experience and was used to having another person being able to read his actions without having to think, was difficult. Luhan wasn’t eager to help Minseok beyond what he had to, but it wasn’t like he was discouraging, either. He just wasn’t fond of the idea to have to get to know Minseok. It was clear that Minseok lacking in the knowledge on how to work as a pair slightly irritated Luhan but the new guy was quick to learn. And so, like everything in Beijing, Minseok learned how to manage.
The days pass by peacefully enough and that’s all that Minseok really wants anyway.
Part I | Part II | Part III