bridging the gap
Title: Bridging the Gap
Requester: savour_twin
Pairings: HaeHyuk, HanChul, KyuWook, some 2min, some MyungJong, hints of JongKey and of several more
Genre: romance/fluff
Warning: soccer -- I used lots, and I probably failed; don't sue me
Rating: pg
Length: 5,902
Disclaimer: I'm in college; do you think I have the money to own the boys? Nice try.
Author's Note: This was difficult to write. Incredibly difficult.
It wasn't that I didn't have the idea, but that I lacked the drive.
I've been really....lacking towards Super Junior lately. I think it's my way of distancing myself a bit so that when they do leave for the army, I won't be so hurt. And then when they come back....I don't think they'll be the same Super Junior. They'll separate, like SS501. On good terms, I'm sure, but still.
And I think this is just...a result. I'll still write EunHae and I'll write SJ, and I'll continue all my in-process stories.... But I need a break, I think. I'll do more for SHINee and Infinite after this. And I have a DBSK fic I've been muddling with, so maybe that....
But that all aside (I'll do a post or something later) here's my second challenge fic for the HaeHyuk Fic Trade!
“Donghae, if you don’t get up this instant, you’re going to be late, and I am not taking you to the school.”
Donghae groans and turns his head, face pressing into his pillow. A headache rages behind his eyes, and all he wants at this moment is to close his eyes again and drift back to sleep. But before he can make a stab at the feat, someone knocks at his door -- just once -- before it flies open. His mother, Heechul (although technically Heechul is his father, and not even his feath father at that, but Donghae’s never been one for technicalities this early in the morning) stands there, eyes narrowed and lips twisted into a frown. A hand is pressed against his hips, fingers tapping a stacatto beat against his thigh.
“Lee Donghae, get up this instant.” There is a dangerous undertone to the words now, one that Donghae can’t help but recognize as the getupgetupgetup alarm, and he pushes himself out of bed, falling onto the floor with an unforgiving whump of sound.
He whines; his mother is not impressed.
“I meant it when I said I wasn’t taking you to school today if you’re late. Your father forgot his briefcase again--” Donghae grins, Heechul rolls his eyes; the sad thing is that this is a common occurence for the household, so both are used to it by now, “--so I have to take them down to the office before he starts his presentation.”
“But umma,” Donghae begins to whine only to be cut off by the sharp look Heechul gives him.
“But nothing. Get dressed. There’s breakfast downstairs. And I swear to god, if you’re not ready to leave in the next ten minutes, you will be on your own for dinner tonight.”
Donghae laughs but doesn’t make a move to get up. “But you can’t cook to save your life.”
Heechul smirks, and Donghae is knocked off guard. “I never said I was cooking.” He pauses for effect before adding, “Hannie’s making Beijing Fried Rice as good luck for your game on Friday, since he won’t be here the night beforee.”
Donghae shoots bolt upright, eyes wide in shock. “He’s what?” Heechul begins to laugh as Donghae scrambles over to his his closet where clothing had begun to collect in untidy piles, grabbing for a pair of pants that smelled clean, as most of his clothing was strewn across that side of the room and there was no other way to tell whether it was clean or not. As Donghae tugs a shirt over his head the neckline catching on the bridge of his nose (Donghae yelps at the pain), Heechul starts off down the hall (and he’s still laughing).
Five minutes later, teeth brushed and hair combed into something that resembles order but doesn’t quite make it, Donghae stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen where Heechul is standing at the counter. There is a mug of something hot in his hands, probably coffee with milk, and he’s watching Donghae with an expectant gaze.
Donghae grins. “I’m here. Breakfast?”
Heechul’s lips twist into a smile that is visible above the rip of the mug that’s now level with his mouth. “Microwave. Eat fast though.”
Donghae crosses the kitchen with a hum of delight to find a short stack of pancakes slathered in butter and syrup. “Tell Hangeng he’s amazing,” Donghae says, words somewhat muffled as he promptly digs into the meal.
Five minutes later, with Heechul watching him expectantly, Donghae rinses off the plate and heads for the door. His backpack and sports bag are both alreayd there, waiting and expectant, and Donghae smiles, a flood of warmth in his chest. “You’re amazing, Heechul,” he calls over his shoulder.
“I know, I know,” Heechul mumbles. He’s finished with his coffee by this point and is in the process of sliding on his shoes so he can take Hangeng’s briefcase to him. The words are sent as a brush off, but Donghae smiles; that’s affection he hears in Heechul’s voice. The past eighteen years have taught him this much, at least.
Donghae is still lingering by the door when he hears Heechul’s voice behind him, sharp and brash with annoyance -- “Lee Donghae, you are going to be late to school if you don’t leave this very instant. I love you, but there is Beijing Fried Rice on the line, and if you make me miss Geng’s rice, I’ll cream you when you’re done with practice!”
The image of Heechul, with his thin limbs and feminine features, doing anything even remotely related to physical exertion brings a laugh to Donghae’s lips. But, because there is Beijing Fried Rice on the line, Donghae complies, grabbing his bags and openignt he door to leave.
“Bye umma,” Donghae says over his shoulder with a shit-eating grin, making sure to stress the second word because he knows how it grates Heechul’s nerves. And grate it does, as Heechul flings one of his shoes at the door, somehow missing Donghae’s expectant hands and smile by mere inches.
“Just go already!”
Donghae does, but not before tossing Heechul’s shoe back to him. Donghae, unlike his father, doesn’t miss.
***
Donghae zones out on the walk to school, humming absently as he shuffles down the sidewalk past a park where he can see a couple of morning joggers and a younger woman walking a pack of dogs. He doesn’t realize he’s stopped moving until he’s forcibly moved, a body crashing against his, sending him tumbling to the sidewalk below.
“Oh my god, I am so, so sorry,” a voice says, hurried, rushed, and scattered. There is a mess of papers strewn across the ground, and Dongahe gives them a cursory once-over before turning to whoever had knocked him over.
“Look, man--” Donghae’s voice catches in his throat, because all he sees is a shock of red hair, vibrant and shining in a way beneath the sun that the color is nearly scarlet. The other looks up, eyes a warm chocolate, offset against milky shite skin. Donghae swallows hard, swallows his words, and blinks in shock.
This is easily the prettiest person Donghae has ever seen, and the sight intimidates him. But only a little bit.
Okay, maybe a lot.
His first instinct is to run. His second is to fight, because Lee Donghae does not, under any circumstances, run. Ever.
“I better not see you again, or you’re going to wish you were never born,” Donghae hisses from between clenched teeth as he pushes himself upright, creating much-needed distance between himself and the other boy. The other merely sits there, mouth hanging open ever so slightly, hands trembling over the papers.
Donghae smirks, smug, and turns, resuming his walk to the school.
***
“Donghae, where were you?”
Upon entering his classroom, Donghae slides into his seat with a hum of nonchalance. “Nowhere. Just walking to school.” But that’s not all that had happened, and Donghae feels a very faint blush rising to his cheeks. He coughs, willing away the embarrassment. “Heechul threw a shoe at me,” he offers instead in hopes of changing the subject.
Minho, his best friend and teammate, leans forward blinking in obvious surprise. This was obviously not something he’d been expecting to hear. “He threw a shoe at you?”
Donghae nods as he flips open his book, humming again as he scans through the previous night’s homework. His lips twist into a faint frown as he spots an unanswered number, remembering that he’d had trouble the night before and hadn’t found the time to ask Heechul about it. “Yeah. Right as I was leaving. And he made me fall out of bed this morning.”
Minho laughs at this, and in the midst of it, there’s a hum of greeting as someone sits on Donghae’s other side.
“Hey, Myungsoo,” Donghae says, turning toward him in an attempt to ignore the way Minho’s laughing at his expense. “What’d you get for number six on the homework?”
Myungsoo shrugs and opens the book to pull out a paper. “I didn’t understand most of it; Sungjong had to help me.”
Donghae blinks, glancing over his shoulder to see that Minho looks equally surprised. When he faces Myungsoo again, he’s grinning. “You’re still going to see the tutors?”
A light blush stains his cheeks as he shoves the paper toward Donghae. “Not tutors,” he stresses. “Just a tutor. Sungjong.” Donghae snickers, Minho grins. Myungsoo frowns. “I don’t see why the two of you find this so funny.”
“Because you like him, and because it’s obvious to everyone except him,” Minho says simply as he peers over Donghae’s shoulder, copying down the answer for himself; while Minho’s normally a pretty good student, there’s just something about the English language and concept concerning figures of speech that manages to evade his grasp.
Myungsoo sputters a protest, a sure denial that he uses far too often, but is saved from having to retort by the entrance of their teacher.
When she reaches the front of the classroom, the students are silent, watching her with attention. She’s never been late before, so it’s obvious something is going on....but what? Their answer comes not even a moment later, and in the form of an announcement. “We have a new student, class.” She motions the new student in, and as he faces the class, deja vu hits Donghae like a tidal wave, submerging him in warm brown eyes and pale skin and hair as bright as cherries.
Donghae can see Minho watching him from his peripheral vision, even as his line of sight darkeness, narrowing down upon the new student’s face.
“Hello, my name is Lee Hyukjae. Please take good care of me.” The new student, Hyukjae, beams up at the class. Donghae is too stunned to smile -- or frown -- back.
***
Hyukjae ends up sitting a row in front of and two seat to the left of Donghae’s group. Much to Donghae’s embarrassment and both Minho and Myungsoo’s amusement, Donghae stares at the back of Hyukjae’s head for the entirety of class.
They ask him about it after class -- except that, by ask, they actually poke and prod and just generally harass Donghae into telling them the truth, but Donghae withstands the abuse and disappears into his next class with a sigh of relief. It’s only a temporary reprieve, as he shares lunch with the both of them after this, but at least this will give him a bit to gather his thoughts.
Unfortunately, Donghae realizes as he approaches his seat, there’s a familiar shock of red hair in the seat he usually takes.
“Hey!” Donghae says before he can stop himself.
Hyukjae glances up, eyes wide. “Yes?”
“You’re in my seat, move.” Donghae pushes the younger boy from his seat with ease and collapses down into the vacant area.
At his side, Hyukjae shuffles anxiously. “But I was there first,” he mumbles.
“Look here, kid,” Donghae says, not turned to glance at him. “I told you earlier that I’d better not see you around, or you’d regret it. wouldn’t it be wiser to, I don’t know, scram?”
Hyukjae gives him one last measured look, a frown twisting at his lips this time, before he pulls away and grabs the nearest empty seat.
The heated stare Donghae feels on the back of his neck does nothing for his nerves.
***
Donghae collapses at the lunch table where Minho and Taemin are quietly sharing a lunch. Donghae eyes them skeptically, frowning somewhat, before glances up at him with a shrug, “Key didn’t come to school today, so our resident lunch-making umma didn’t bring Taemin his food.” Donghae arches a brow.
“Strange. Jonghyun’s gone.”
“Today’s the auditions for the entertainment district downtown. Jonghyun, Dongwoo and Howon were telling me about it yesterday in gym.” Myungsoo sits at the table, shoving an apple into Donghae’s hands. “So, loverboy, tell us about the new kid that kept scowling at you in class.”
“Wha--how’d you know?” Donghae flushes a faint crimson, almost shrinking away when Myungsoo grins slyly at him.
“Woohyun and Sungyeol caught me in the lunch line. They had very interesting things to say.”
Minho and Taemin stop eating and glance over, watching his reaction. Taemin is confused, but Minho just looks smug, and a tiny part of Dongae wishes he could just wipe the smirk off his friend’s face.
Sungjong picks that moment to arrive at the table however, and Donghae is spared from answering. In fact, he takes that moment to quietly slink away from the table before anyone can notice -- but he’s sure that Minho and Myungsoo saw him anyway.
***
The next two classes are, thankfully, Hyukjae free. They are equally Minho and Myungsoo free, but the final class is music, which he shares with both Taemin and Sungjong. They watch him with knowing glances as he walks in, the duo positively glowing as Donghae sits beside them.
Donghae isn’t sure whether to be afraid or not.
“What are the both of you smiling at?”
“Nothing,” Sungjong sings.
“Just, y’know, the fact that you like Hyukjae,” Taemin says, waving his hand airily.
“I do not!” Donghae all but shrieks. The teacher gives him a stern look and Donghae immediately calms back down, shooting vicious looks at the grinning blondes. “I hate you. Both of you.” Donghae mumbles.
Taemin grins. “We love you, too.”
***
As much as Donghae wishes he could skip practice, he knows that he can, so he suffers the knowing glances that Minho and Myungsoo shoot him, and all but rushes from the field so he can strip back into his uniform and leave. He escapes through the side door just as Minho’s and Myungsoo’s voices, raised in laughter, echo through the locker room.
***
The next day is almost as bad as the first. Hyukjae seems to be everywhere, always lingering at the corner of Donghae’s line of sight, and when he turns to confront the boy, Hyukjae is gone. It’s disconcerting, to say the least.
Donghae catches Hyukjae by accident in the bathroom at the tail end of third period. He grins -- quick, narrowed, and just a little bit violent, and shoves Hyukjae against the stall with his shoulder as he leaves, laughing a “Sorry~” as he goes. Hyukjae stares after him in shock, eyes forever wide and mouth hanging slightly agape.
***
Wednesday passes by in a blur as Donghae struggles just to get through the day. Taemin and Sungjong have told both Minho and Myungsoo their suspicions, he thinks, so now it’s the four of them against him, and he’s come to decide that it’s just a little bit unfair.
He can’t get through a full bite of food without choking on something, and Donghae is only halfway through his sandwich when the bell for the next class rings. Donghae, groaning his frustration, tosses his full plate of food and goes to his next class, ignoring the way his stomach growls at him with every step.
***
Practice that day is terrible.
His stomach grumbles disapproval with every step he takes, and he can’t concentrate at all. They’re only doing practice skirmishes, but Donghae has already been called twice on being caught off-sides, once on botching a goal kick, and three times on taking an extra step during a throw-in. The coach finally pulls him aside after his seventh mistake, hand heavy on his shoulder, before telling him in a quiet voice to leave the field.
Donghae wants to protest, but can’t find the words in him. Mute, he agrees.
***
Thirty agonizing minutes later, Donghae opens the front door only to hear unfamiliar voices from the kitchen. Frowning, he shifts to close the door before venturing further into the house.
“Ahh, that must be him coming in now,” a voice says, and Dongahe recognizes it as Hangeng’s. “We’re in the kitchen, Hae.”
Donghae hums softly, shuffling into the kitchen. “Who’s here?” He stops abruptly, frozen in the doorway connecting the living room to the kitchen.
Hangeng smiles from where he’s sitting, motioning toward the couple across from him and Heechul, “Donghae, this is Kyuhyun and Ryeowook. Heechul and I grew up with Kyuhyun, and we were all in school together when he met Ryeowook.” Donghae nods, mute. “And this is their son, Hyukjae. I accidentally bumped into Kyuhyun on the way back from work, yesterday....” Hangeng’s voice fades into the background as he recounts the tale of how he and Kyuhyun had met, and Donghae can’t force himself to pay attention to the words.
Hyukjae is frowning at Donghae, and there is a glimmer in his eyes that Donghae can see even from the doorway.
He is startled from his musings when Heechul says, “So why don’t you boys go hang upstairs in Donghae’s room while we work on dinner?”
Donghae forces himself to nod and heads upstairs. Hyukjae follows a moment later.
***
The room is silent, and not in a pleasant way. It’s more of the silence between an accused and his accuser, where one man stands on trial for a crime he may or may not have committed.
“So, Donghae,” Hyukjae starts casually. Donghae prides himself for not flinching. “Why have you been such an ass to me this past week?”
This time Donghae does flinch. “I....” He doesn’t know for sure.
Taemin’s and Sungjong’s words flash to the forefront of his mind, and Donghae sways on his feet before collapsing onto the chair at his desk.
Hyukjae eyes him warily. “You don’t know why you’ve been an ass to me?”
Donghae groans, face pressing into his hands. “No, I mean, yes. I know. I mean, maybe.” Probably. Most likely. Definitely.
“Well, what’s the deal then? Cause I can tell you right now that I’m sick of being bullied by you.”
What? I--” He frowns and glances up at Hyukjae, thin lips pursed as he mumbles, “You intimidate me. Did and still do, and it’s not fair.”
Hyukjae arches an eyebrow, skeptic. “Really. That’s the best you’ve got?” When Donghae nods, Hyukjae shrugs. “Well, I’m sorry. But that’s no reason to treat me like this.”
Donghae nods. “I know. And, if it helps at all, I’m sorry.”
Hyukjae tilts his head in a manner than signals neither agreement nor disapproval. Heechul’s voice calls from the downstairs a moment later, and Hyukjae leaves without looking back.
Donghae lingers in his room for a short while longer before following the other down the stairs.
For some reason, his heart feels heavy, and he can’t exactly place why that is.
***
The next day, Donghae fumbles through his classes. He can’t sit still, can’t concentrate, can’t even begin to focus on what the teachers are saying, and he knows why. Minho and Myungsoo, with the way they watch him with pitying eyes, know why.
They bail on him at lunch, leaving an unusually silent Donghae squished between Taemin and Sungjong.
The blondes, for their credit, are giving him a better time than Minho or Myungsoo ever did, but even then, it’s not easy. He’s only been sitting there with them for a minute, maybe less, and Taemin and Sungjong are sharing knowing looks that make Donghae want to sink into the floor. He honestly hasn’t felt this bad in....forever.
Taemin speaks first. “So you like him.” But it’s a statement rather than a question,a nd Donghae groans as a response.
“Did you apologize?” Sungjong leans forward with a hum, propping his head up on his hand as the glances down at Donghae.
“Yes,” Donghae mumbles, though it’s muffled by the table.
“What’s he say?”
Donghae’s silence is answer enough, appearantly, as Taemin and Sungjong both begin to whisper in a conspiratory way that makes Donghae’s gut sink to the floor. Whatever they’re talking about probably isn’t good, and he already feels low enough; he doesn’t want any more trouble.
Taemin places a thin hand on Donghae’s shoulder, and Donghae glances up in time to see Taemin’s smile, a thousand-watt sun in the middle of the cafeteria, light up his face. “Don’t worry, hyung. We’ll help you fix this.”
Donghae can only groan.
***
By the time fourth hour has rolled around, Donghae has almost forgotten about Taemin’s words -- at least until he sees Taemin and Minho chatting quietly outside the door of Taemin and Donghae’s classroom. When they see him coming, the duo split apart, plastering grins to their faces.
“Donghae,” Minho says and he moves to leave, “I hope you’re ready for practice today.”
Donghae can only shrug. He’s not really ready for anything, much less the upcoming soccer match, but he forces a smile to his lips, one that matches Minho’s almost perfectly. “Of course. we’re totally going to win this.”
Taemin smiles, patting his arm, and pulls him into the classroom to where Sungjong is waiting, scribbling furiously in his journal, “That’s the hyung I know.”
Sungjong and Taemin share a glance. They don’t think Donghae notices, but he does, and warmth floods his chest.
***
Practice is excruciating.
Donghae works himself into a state of exhaustion. He knows that this is the match they need, the one match that they have to win if they want to have any plans of going to the playoffs. But Donghae’s got his head in the game again.
Play like Hyukjae is watching, Myungsoo had whispered as they took their opening positions on the field.
Across from him, Donghae sees Minho smirk, and he knows that this will probably be the hardest scrimmage he’s ever played -- Minho is fiercely competitive, and he’s a natural at soccer, so anyone that happens to oppose him usually ends up face-down on the field by the end of the match -- but Myungsoo’s words have given Donghae a ray of hope, and he graps tightly to it as the whistles shrieks and he rushes forward, stealing the ball away from the other team as Minho tried to pass it on the the next person.
At the end of practice, when the entire team has collapsed onto the grass, chests heaving and bodies soaked in a sheen of sweat, their shirts clinging like a second skin, there’s a cheer from the bleachers.
Taemin and Sungjong are waving from one of the middle seconds, voices loud and obnoxious in the steadily darkening dusk. There’s an empty space between the two of them, and a tiny part of Donghae entertains the notion that perhaps Hyukjae had been sitting there watching as well.
***
The next day passes Donghae by in a blur of light, sound, and color. the only time he can focus on anythign is when he sees the stark white of a familiar uniform in the hallway, and he highfives his teammates before drifting back into that blur of motion. There are a couple instances where he think he may have seen Hyukjae, but the boy is gone again before Donghae can be sure.
But some part of him is sure -- it’s Hyukjae -- and the knowledge warms his heart.
***
Donghae stand at the edge of the field, watching as the other team finishes their warm-ups.
The stands are filled to bursting with people -- students and faculty, adults and children alike. In the front row are Sungjong and Taemin, loud and obnoxiously proud, faces painted in the school colors like so many other faces are. But when Donghae takes another look, he doesn’t spot Hyukjae, and his heart begins to sink.
Minho approaches him after a moment, slinging a casual arm across Donghae’s shoulders. “Play like he’s here, Donghae.”
Donghae wants to protest that he wasn’t looking for Hyukjae, but he knows Minho won’t buy it, and he should really stop trying to lie to himself anyway. It’s not a healthy occupation, anyway. Instead, he inclines his head, lips curling at the corners. “Of course I will.”
When the ref blows the whistle a minute later, Donghae steps out onto the field with Minho at his side. They’re both playing as forwards this game, though the coach is likely to move one of them to midfielder at some point because they work so well together. At his back, he can hear Jinki’s excited shriek, Siwon’s laughter, and Yunho’s words of encouragement.
When the game begins, all Donghae can hear above the shuddering of his heart is the whistles as it marks game in.
Although the other team had won the coin toss, Minho is fast and he steals the ball from the other team before they can begin to comprehend what has happened.
He passes it to Donghae who covers and blocks from an opposing midfielder. Ten seconds later, the ball sails into the net, just beyond the fingers of their goalie.
All told, the first point is scored within the first thirty seconds, and the crowd screams its approval.
They lead the game for another twenty minutes, racking up three more points before the other team manages to score their first goal. After that, though, everything begins sliding downhill.
The other team seems to realize that there’s someone gunning to beat them, so they buckle down and begin working to turn the game around.
By halftime, the other teams is winning with six points against their four.
Donghae trudges into the locker room with his team, sagging onto a bench as if the weight of a world presses down upon him. To say that he is exhausted would be an understatement.
There is a flurry of moment and noise from the door, and Sungjong, Taemin, and surprisingly Hyukjae as well push their way through a moment later. They have cold bottles of water and begin passing them around to the team.
There are no words as the boys sit there, each secluded to his thoughts. They know they much do their very best so that the team has a chance of winning. To lose this game will put the rest of their season as nothing, and no one knows this better than they do.
Their coach steps in a few minutes later. He doesn’t offer words of encouragement; he knows the look of a beaten group when he sees it, and he leaves a moment later, head hung in a sigh.
A couple people rise to follow him, ready to get the rest of their beating over with. But anxiety pulls at Donghae’s gut and she rises witha aloud, “Wait!” His legs are weak beneath him, but he stands tall, speaking loud. “We can do this, guys. They may have more muscle than we do, but we’re faster than they are. If we can get the ball from them, we can win this. Twice. We only need it twice, guys.”
Kangin, a defender, glances up then. “What if we can’t get it, Donghae?”
Eeteuk, as his side, elbows Kangin in the side. “Didn’t you hear him? If we can get it, we can keep it. They’re bigger than us, sure, but no bigger than Minho over there--” Minho lets out a cry of exasperation, but he’s grinning all the same; they all are now.
Siwon stands, dropping his bottle of water to the bench. “We can do this. Let’s do this.”
Donghae grins and thrusts his right hand into the area between them. Eeteuk mimics the action without hesitation, quickly followed by Minho and Myungsoo, then Siwon, Jinki, Yunho, and Junsu. A gloved hand, belonging to their goalie Jungmo, joins the pile. After that, Donghae loses track, but the entire teams is eventually standing there, a cohesive unit striving toward their goal.
“One,” Donghae says.
“Two,” Eeteuk agrees.
“Three,” Kangin echoes.
“Hwaiting!” The team screams, hands raising skyward. In the corner of the room, Sungjong, Taemin, and Hyukjae have joined them, and Hyukjae is smiling just as wide as the rest of them. Even when Donghae catches his eye.
Warmth floods Donghae and he doesn’t bother trying to pretend he doesn’t know why.
When they exit the locker room a minute later, they are reunited under their front, and Donghae has never felt prouder than at that moment.
***
When the game starts back up again, Donghae is on the bench. He’d played most of the first half though, so he doesn’t mind a bit of down time. Myungsoo is at his side, watching the game from between narrowed eyes.
Fifteen minutes into the second half, Myungsoo nudges Donghae discreetly with his elbow and points to a bulky guy playing midfielder. “He’s their troublemaker,” Myungsoo murmurs.
Donghae watches the player intently for a moment before realizing that Myungsoo was right. Whenever one of their teammates go down, it’s because of a subtle shove from that player. Donghae grits his teeth as the Eeteuk tumbles to the ground. He lays there, stunned for a moment before rising slowly. He catches Donghae’s eye and Dongahe rises, shifting over to where their coach stands.
“Eeteuk needs out.”
The coach glances at him, then to Eeteuk. He nods once. “You’ll go in for Eeteuk, Myungsoo for Jinki. And...Changmin for Siwon.”
Donghae nods and goes back to relay the message to his teammates. When the ball is kicked out next, the trio rise from their spots and go to the sideline, calling for the teammates they’re subbing for.
Eeteuk gives Donghae a wide grin of relief as they trade places. “Good luck,” he murmurs in passing. “And watch out for number twenty-five.”
All Donghae does is grin. “You know it.”
The game starts back up. Donghae’s team, specifically Changmin, is in possession of the ball. Changmin is small and fast, and he hasn’t played since the first half of the first quarter, so he still has most of his energy. Myungsoo, who is acting as a forward is int he perfect position, so as Changmin dodges the opposing team’s midfielders, he kicks blindly toward Myungsoo. Donghae pushes past his own midfielder to help Myungsoo pass the defenders.
The ball sails into the net with an ease that shocks the entire field into silence.
The whistle shrieks, coding that a goal has been made, and the stands burst into cheers.
As Donghae is walking back to his starting point, he catches the gaze of the player that had kncoked Eeteuk down.
Twenty-five is grinning, and Donghae doesn’t like it one bit.
The next ten minutes are spent forcing their way across their field, speed carrying them the distance only to have the defenders rush forward at the last minute, cutting the waiting player offsides.
With five minutes left in the second half, the teams scores their sixth point, and the score is finally tied.
Donghae is rotated from midfielder to forward while Myungsoo takes his old position, and Minho is rotated in as the second forward. The three exchange a glance, Myungsoo silently warning them to keep an eye on number twenty-five while Minho and Donghae choose their battle plan.
When the whistles shriekes this time, Donghae rushes forward and clashes with twenty-five. Myungsoo and Minho push past him securing the ball and retreating it so the team can pass it back to a safer position.
Donghae retreats with them, flashing the other boy a grin. they pass the ball between them for another moment, killing time, before rushing forward.
Myungsoo has the ball, and he kicks it to Donghae as Minho dances around the midfielder rushing toward him. Donghae kicks it to Minho when the other boy is in the clear, and they continue making their way down the field. The stands are on their feet, voices a screaming chorus against the thunderous cadence their hearts drill in their chests.
Out of nowhere, a weight crashes into Donghae, and pain lances through his leg.
Donghae crumples.
Time stops.
The whistle shrieks agains the backdrop of stunned silence, then the stands burst into screams, and they sound like his name.
***
When Donghae comes to a minute later, all he can see are faces swimming in the air above his.
Someone exhales loudly, calls, “He’s awake!”
Donghae groans, rubs at his head. Minho is perched by his side. “You okay?”
“Did you catch the number of the train that hit me?” Donghae asks in response.
A wry smile bit at Minho’s lips. “Twenty-five.”
Donghae groans. “What an asshat.”
“Red cards are wonderful. He got you though; coach says you’re done for the night.”
Another groan, this one louder. “Penalty kick?”
“We get one, yeah, but coach says--”
“Screw coach,” Donghae grunts as he rises to his feet.
The ref approaches then, giving him a once-over. “Are you fit to play, or do you need a sub?”
“I’m not bleeding am I?” The referee shakes his head after a moemnt, and Dongahe grins. “Guess I’m playing then.” Minho opens his mouth to protest, but Donghae elbows him in the side. “I’ll also take the penalty shot, if it’s all the same.” The ref nods, albeit a bit unsure, before blowing his whistle and calling for players to rise from their kneel.
Donghae walks over to the ball, staring it down. “You know where to go, right,” he mumbles and Minho moves to pas shim.
Minho arches a brow and grins. “I’ll be there.”
When everyone is back in place, Donghae moves to the ball. He eyes an opening to the right where a swath of open space had appeared. But, as he approached it, he twisted his body, sending the ball off to the left where Minho was waiting to intercept.
It’s a simple one-two move. Before the other team can respond, they’re got their winning goal.
The timer runs down five seconds later and, for a long moment, no one moves and the stands are silent. Then a section of the front row erupts into cheers, and the entire stand follows not long after.
Dongahe is swept up into a sea of people. They mob him, patting him on the back, shaking his hand, ruffling his hair, and then moving on to congratulate Minho and the others of the team.
In a lull of people, Donghae sees Hyukjae standing by the opposite goal, and he slowly makes his way over there, trying to keep as much weight off of his leg as he can. Now that the game is over, his body is beginning to catelogue the injuries, and his leg is in a continuous cycle of ache.
“You’re probably the oldest fifth-grader I’ve ever seen,” Hyukjae says with a dry chuckle.
“I...what?” Dongahe had expected something along the lines of, good game. Being compared to a fifth grader was not in his life of post-game acceptance mesages.
“You’re like a fifth grader,” Hyukjae says, nodding this time. “You bullied me after that day because you thougth I was cute.”
“I....what? But how did you find out?”
“Taemin and Sungjong love playing matchmaker,” Hyukaje says effortlessly.
“Oh.” Dongahe’s expression falters that. “Is that...bad?”
Hyukjae rolls his eyes. “No. But it’s the truth. You acted like such a little kid, Donghae.”
But Donghae is okay with this, and he smiles. “Well, then I’m the cutest fifth grader you’ve ever seen, right?”
There is an abrupt silence, then Hyukjae grins. “Yeah, maybe you are.”
But with the way Hyukjae leans forward into his arms and up for Dongahe to kiss him, Donghae is pretty sure they both know the truth.
Requester: savour_twin
Pairings: HaeHyuk, HanChul, KyuWook, some 2min, some MyungJong, hints of JongKey and of several more
Genre: romance/fluff
Warning: soccer -- I used lots, and I probably failed; don't sue me
Rating: pg
Length: 5,902
Disclaimer: I'm in college; do you think I have the money to own the boys? Nice try.
Author's Note: This was difficult to write. Incredibly difficult.
It wasn't that I didn't have the idea, but that I lacked the drive.
I've been really....lacking towards Super Junior lately. I think it's my way of distancing myself a bit so that when they do leave for the army, I won't be so hurt. And then when they come back....I don't think they'll be the same Super Junior. They'll separate, like SS501. On good terms, I'm sure, but still.
And I think this is just...a result. I'll still write EunHae and I'll write SJ, and I'll continue all my in-process stories.... But I need a break, I think. I'll do more for SHINee and Infinite after this. And I have a DBSK fic I've been muddling with, so maybe that....
But that all aside (I'll do a post or something later) here's my second challenge fic for the HaeHyuk Fic Trade!
“Donghae, if you don’t get up this instant, you’re going to be late, and I am not taking you to the school.”
Donghae groans and turns his head, face pressing into his pillow. A headache rages behind his eyes, and all he wants at this moment is to close his eyes again and drift back to sleep. But before he can make a stab at the feat, someone knocks at his door -- just once -- before it flies open. His mother, Heechul (although technically Heechul is his father, and not even his feath father at that, but Donghae’s never been one for technicalities this early in the morning) stands there, eyes narrowed and lips twisted into a frown. A hand is pressed against his hips, fingers tapping a stacatto beat against his thigh.
“Lee Donghae, get up this instant.” There is a dangerous undertone to the words now, one that Donghae can’t help but recognize as the getupgetupgetup alarm, and he pushes himself out of bed, falling onto the floor with an unforgiving whump of sound.
He whines; his mother is not impressed.
“I meant it when I said I wasn’t taking you to school today if you’re late. Your father forgot his briefcase again--” Donghae grins, Heechul rolls his eyes; the sad thing is that this is a common occurence for the household, so both are used to it by now, “--so I have to take them down to the office before he starts his presentation.”
“But umma,” Donghae begins to whine only to be cut off by the sharp look Heechul gives him.
“But nothing. Get dressed. There’s breakfast downstairs. And I swear to god, if you’re not ready to leave in the next ten minutes, you will be on your own for dinner tonight.”
Donghae laughs but doesn’t make a move to get up. “But you can’t cook to save your life.”
Heechul smirks, and Donghae is knocked off guard. “I never said I was cooking.” He pauses for effect before adding, “Hannie’s making Beijing Fried Rice as good luck for your game on Friday, since he won’t be here the night beforee.”
Donghae shoots bolt upright, eyes wide in shock. “He’s what?” Heechul begins to laugh as Donghae scrambles over to his his closet where clothing had begun to collect in untidy piles, grabbing for a pair of pants that smelled clean, as most of his clothing was strewn across that side of the room and there was no other way to tell whether it was clean or not. As Donghae tugs a shirt over his head the neckline catching on the bridge of his nose (Donghae yelps at the pain), Heechul starts off down the hall (and he’s still laughing).
Five minutes later, teeth brushed and hair combed into something that resembles order but doesn’t quite make it, Donghae stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen where Heechul is standing at the counter. There is a mug of something hot in his hands, probably coffee with milk, and he’s watching Donghae with an expectant gaze.
Donghae grins. “I’m here. Breakfast?”
Heechul’s lips twist into a smile that is visible above the rip of the mug that’s now level with his mouth. “Microwave. Eat fast though.”
Donghae crosses the kitchen with a hum of delight to find a short stack of pancakes slathered in butter and syrup. “Tell Hangeng he’s amazing,” Donghae says, words somewhat muffled as he promptly digs into the meal.
Five minutes later, with Heechul watching him expectantly, Donghae rinses off the plate and heads for the door. His backpack and sports bag are both alreayd there, waiting and expectant, and Donghae smiles, a flood of warmth in his chest. “You’re amazing, Heechul,” he calls over his shoulder.
“I know, I know,” Heechul mumbles. He’s finished with his coffee by this point and is in the process of sliding on his shoes so he can take Hangeng’s briefcase to him. The words are sent as a brush off, but Donghae smiles; that’s affection he hears in Heechul’s voice. The past eighteen years have taught him this much, at least.
Donghae is still lingering by the door when he hears Heechul’s voice behind him, sharp and brash with annoyance -- “Lee Donghae, you are going to be late to school if you don’t leave this very instant. I love you, but there is Beijing Fried Rice on the line, and if you make me miss Geng’s rice, I’ll cream you when you’re done with practice!”
The image of Heechul, with his thin limbs and feminine features, doing anything even remotely related to physical exertion brings a laugh to Donghae’s lips. But, because there is Beijing Fried Rice on the line, Donghae complies, grabbing his bags and openignt he door to leave.
“Bye umma,” Donghae says over his shoulder with a shit-eating grin, making sure to stress the second word because he knows how it grates Heechul’s nerves. And grate it does, as Heechul flings one of his shoes at the door, somehow missing Donghae’s expectant hands and smile by mere inches.
“Just go already!”
Donghae does, but not before tossing Heechul’s shoe back to him. Donghae, unlike his father, doesn’t miss.
***
Donghae zones out on the walk to school, humming absently as he shuffles down the sidewalk past a park where he can see a couple of morning joggers and a younger woman walking a pack of dogs. He doesn’t realize he’s stopped moving until he’s forcibly moved, a body crashing against his, sending him tumbling to the sidewalk below.
“Oh my god, I am so, so sorry,” a voice says, hurried, rushed, and scattered. There is a mess of papers strewn across the ground, and Dongahe gives them a cursory once-over before turning to whoever had knocked him over.
“Look, man--” Donghae’s voice catches in his throat, because all he sees is a shock of red hair, vibrant and shining in a way beneath the sun that the color is nearly scarlet. The other looks up, eyes a warm chocolate, offset against milky shite skin. Donghae swallows hard, swallows his words, and blinks in shock.
This is easily the prettiest person Donghae has ever seen, and the sight intimidates him. But only a little bit.
Okay, maybe a lot.
His first instinct is to run. His second is to fight, because Lee Donghae does not, under any circumstances, run. Ever.
“I better not see you again, or you’re going to wish you were never born,” Donghae hisses from between clenched teeth as he pushes himself upright, creating much-needed distance between himself and the other boy. The other merely sits there, mouth hanging open ever so slightly, hands trembling over the papers.
Donghae smirks, smug, and turns, resuming his walk to the school.
***
“Donghae, where were you?”
Upon entering his classroom, Donghae slides into his seat with a hum of nonchalance. “Nowhere. Just walking to school.” But that’s not all that had happened, and Donghae feels a very faint blush rising to his cheeks. He coughs, willing away the embarrassment. “Heechul threw a shoe at me,” he offers instead in hopes of changing the subject.
Minho, his best friend and teammate, leans forward blinking in obvious surprise. This was obviously not something he’d been expecting to hear. “He threw a shoe at you?”
Donghae nods as he flips open his book, humming again as he scans through the previous night’s homework. His lips twist into a faint frown as he spots an unanswered number, remembering that he’d had trouble the night before and hadn’t found the time to ask Heechul about it. “Yeah. Right as I was leaving. And he made me fall out of bed this morning.”
Minho laughs at this, and in the midst of it, there’s a hum of greeting as someone sits on Donghae’s other side.
“Hey, Myungsoo,” Donghae says, turning toward him in an attempt to ignore the way Minho’s laughing at his expense. “What’d you get for number six on the homework?”
Myungsoo shrugs and opens the book to pull out a paper. “I didn’t understand most of it; Sungjong had to help me.”
Donghae blinks, glancing over his shoulder to see that Minho looks equally surprised. When he faces Myungsoo again, he’s grinning. “You’re still going to see the tutors?”
A light blush stains his cheeks as he shoves the paper toward Donghae. “Not tutors,” he stresses. “Just a tutor. Sungjong.” Donghae snickers, Minho grins. Myungsoo frowns. “I don’t see why the two of you find this so funny.”
“Because you like him, and because it’s obvious to everyone except him,” Minho says simply as he peers over Donghae’s shoulder, copying down the answer for himself; while Minho’s normally a pretty good student, there’s just something about the English language and concept concerning figures of speech that manages to evade his grasp.
Myungsoo sputters a protest, a sure denial that he uses far too often, but is saved from having to retort by the entrance of their teacher.
When she reaches the front of the classroom, the students are silent, watching her with attention. She’s never been late before, so it’s obvious something is going on....but what? Their answer comes not even a moment later, and in the form of an announcement. “We have a new student, class.” She motions the new student in, and as he faces the class, deja vu hits Donghae like a tidal wave, submerging him in warm brown eyes and pale skin and hair as bright as cherries.
Donghae can see Minho watching him from his peripheral vision, even as his line of sight darkeness, narrowing down upon the new student’s face.
“Hello, my name is Lee Hyukjae. Please take good care of me.” The new student, Hyukjae, beams up at the class. Donghae is too stunned to smile -- or frown -- back.
***
Hyukjae ends up sitting a row in front of and two seat to the left of Donghae’s group. Much to Donghae’s embarrassment and both Minho and Myungsoo’s amusement, Donghae stares at the back of Hyukjae’s head for the entirety of class.
They ask him about it after class -- except that, by ask, they actually poke and prod and just generally harass Donghae into telling them the truth, but Donghae withstands the abuse and disappears into his next class with a sigh of relief. It’s only a temporary reprieve, as he shares lunch with the both of them after this, but at least this will give him a bit to gather his thoughts.
Unfortunately, Donghae realizes as he approaches his seat, there’s a familiar shock of red hair in the seat he usually takes.
“Hey!” Donghae says before he can stop himself.
Hyukjae glances up, eyes wide. “Yes?”
“You’re in my seat, move.” Donghae pushes the younger boy from his seat with ease and collapses down into the vacant area.
At his side, Hyukjae shuffles anxiously. “But I was there first,” he mumbles.
“Look here, kid,” Donghae says, not turned to glance at him. “I told you earlier that I’d better not see you around, or you’d regret it. wouldn’t it be wiser to, I don’t know, scram?”
Hyukjae gives him one last measured look, a frown twisting at his lips this time, before he pulls away and grabs the nearest empty seat.
The heated stare Donghae feels on the back of his neck does nothing for his nerves.
***
Donghae collapses at the lunch table where Minho and Taemin are quietly sharing a lunch. Donghae eyes them skeptically, frowning somewhat, before glances up at him with a shrug, “Key didn’t come to school today, so our resident lunch-making umma didn’t bring Taemin his food.” Donghae arches a brow.
“Strange. Jonghyun’s gone.”
“Today’s the auditions for the entertainment district downtown. Jonghyun, Dongwoo and Howon were telling me about it yesterday in gym.” Myungsoo sits at the table, shoving an apple into Donghae’s hands. “So, loverboy, tell us about the new kid that kept scowling at you in class.”
“Wha--how’d you know?” Donghae flushes a faint crimson, almost shrinking away when Myungsoo grins slyly at him.
“Woohyun and Sungyeol caught me in the lunch line. They had very interesting things to say.”
Minho and Taemin stop eating and glance over, watching his reaction. Taemin is confused, but Minho just looks smug, and a tiny part of Dongae wishes he could just wipe the smirk off his friend’s face.
Sungjong picks that moment to arrive at the table however, and Donghae is spared from answering. In fact, he takes that moment to quietly slink away from the table before anyone can notice -- but he’s sure that Minho and Myungsoo saw him anyway.
***
The next two classes are, thankfully, Hyukjae free. They are equally Minho and Myungsoo free, but the final class is music, which he shares with both Taemin and Sungjong. They watch him with knowing glances as he walks in, the duo positively glowing as Donghae sits beside them.
Donghae isn’t sure whether to be afraid or not.
“What are the both of you smiling at?”
“Nothing,” Sungjong sings.
“Just, y’know, the fact that you like Hyukjae,” Taemin says, waving his hand airily.
“I do not!” Donghae all but shrieks. The teacher gives him a stern look and Donghae immediately calms back down, shooting vicious looks at the grinning blondes. “I hate you. Both of you.” Donghae mumbles.
Taemin grins. “We love you, too.”
***
As much as Donghae wishes he could skip practice, he knows that he can, so he suffers the knowing glances that Minho and Myungsoo shoot him, and all but rushes from the field so he can strip back into his uniform and leave. He escapes through the side door just as Minho’s and Myungsoo’s voices, raised in laughter, echo through the locker room.
***
The next day is almost as bad as the first. Hyukjae seems to be everywhere, always lingering at the corner of Donghae’s line of sight, and when he turns to confront the boy, Hyukjae is gone. It’s disconcerting, to say the least.
Donghae catches Hyukjae by accident in the bathroom at the tail end of third period. He grins -- quick, narrowed, and just a little bit violent, and shoves Hyukjae against the stall with his shoulder as he leaves, laughing a “Sorry~” as he goes. Hyukjae stares after him in shock, eyes forever wide and mouth hanging slightly agape.
***
Wednesday passes by in a blur as Donghae struggles just to get through the day. Taemin and Sungjong have told both Minho and Myungsoo their suspicions, he thinks, so now it’s the four of them against him, and he’s come to decide that it’s just a little bit unfair.
He can’t get through a full bite of food without choking on something, and Donghae is only halfway through his sandwich when the bell for the next class rings. Donghae, groaning his frustration, tosses his full plate of food and goes to his next class, ignoring the way his stomach growls at him with every step.
***
Practice that day is terrible.
His stomach grumbles disapproval with every step he takes, and he can’t concentrate at all. They’re only doing practice skirmishes, but Donghae has already been called twice on being caught off-sides, once on botching a goal kick, and three times on taking an extra step during a throw-in. The coach finally pulls him aside after his seventh mistake, hand heavy on his shoulder, before telling him in a quiet voice to leave the field.
Donghae wants to protest, but can’t find the words in him. Mute, he agrees.
***
Thirty agonizing minutes later, Donghae opens the front door only to hear unfamiliar voices from the kitchen. Frowning, he shifts to close the door before venturing further into the house.
“Ahh, that must be him coming in now,” a voice says, and Dongahe recognizes it as Hangeng’s. “We’re in the kitchen, Hae.”
Donghae hums softly, shuffling into the kitchen. “Who’s here?” He stops abruptly, frozen in the doorway connecting the living room to the kitchen.
Hangeng smiles from where he’s sitting, motioning toward the couple across from him and Heechul, “Donghae, this is Kyuhyun and Ryeowook. Heechul and I grew up with Kyuhyun, and we were all in school together when he met Ryeowook.” Donghae nods, mute. “And this is their son, Hyukjae. I accidentally bumped into Kyuhyun on the way back from work, yesterday....” Hangeng’s voice fades into the background as he recounts the tale of how he and Kyuhyun had met, and Donghae can’t force himself to pay attention to the words.
Hyukjae is frowning at Donghae, and there is a glimmer in his eyes that Donghae can see even from the doorway.
He is startled from his musings when Heechul says, “So why don’t you boys go hang upstairs in Donghae’s room while we work on dinner?”
Donghae forces himself to nod and heads upstairs. Hyukjae follows a moment later.
***
The room is silent, and not in a pleasant way. It’s more of the silence between an accused and his accuser, where one man stands on trial for a crime he may or may not have committed.
“So, Donghae,” Hyukjae starts casually. Donghae prides himself for not flinching. “Why have you been such an ass to me this past week?”
This time Donghae does flinch. “I....” He doesn’t know for sure.
Taemin’s and Sungjong’s words flash to the forefront of his mind, and Donghae sways on his feet before collapsing onto the chair at his desk.
Hyukjae eyes him warily. “You don’t know why you’ve been an ass to me?”
Donghae groans, face pressing into his hands. “No, I mean, yes. I know. I mean, maybe.” Probably. Most likely. Definitely.
“Well, what’s the deal then? Cause I can tell you right now that I’m sick of being bullied by you.”
What? I--” He frowns and glances up at Hyukjae, thin lips pursed as he mumbles, “You intimidate me. Did and still do, and it’s not fair.”
Hyukjae arches an eyebrow, skeptic. “Really. That’s the best you’ve got?” When Donghae nods, Hyukjae shrugs. “Well, I’m sorry. But that’s no reason to treat me like this.”
Donghae nods. “I know. And, if it helps at all, I’m sorry.”
Hyukjae tilts his head in a manner than signals neither agreement nor disapproval. Heechul’s voice calls from the downstairs a moment later, and Hyukjae leaves without looking back.
Donghae lingers in his room for a short while longer before following the other down the stairs.
For some reason, his heart feels heavy, and he can’t exactly place why that is.
***
The next day, Donghae fumbles through his classes. He can’t sit still, can’t concentrate, can’t even begin to focus on what the teachers are saying, and he knows why. Minho and Myungsoo, with the way they watch him with pitying eyes, know why.
They bail on him at lunch, leaving an unusually silent Donghae squished between Taemin and Sungjong.
The blondes, for their credit, are giving him a better time than Minho or Myungsoo ever did, but even then, it’s not easy. He’s only been sitting there with them for a minute, maybe less, and Taemin and Sungjong are sharing knowing looks that make Donghae want to sink into the floor. He honestly hasn’t felt this bad in....forever.
Taemin speaks first. “So you like him.” But it’s a statement rather than a question,a nd Donghae groans as a response.
“Did you apologize?” Sungjong leans forward with a hum, propping his head up on his hand as the glances down at Donghae.
“Yes,” Donghae mumbles, though it’s muffled by the table.
“What’s he say?”
Donghae’s silence is answer enough, appearantly, as Taemin and Sungjong both begin to whisper in a conspiratory way that makes Donghae’s gut sink to the floor. Whatever they’re talking about probably isn’t good, and he already feels low enough; he doesn’t want any more trouble.
Taemin places a thin hand on Donghae’s shoulder, and Donghae glances up in time to see Taemin’s smile, a thousand-watt sun in the middle of the cafeteria, light up his face. “Don’t worry, hyung. We’ll help you fix this.”
Donghae can only groan.
***
By the time fourth hour has rolled around, Donghae has almost forgotten about Taemin’s words -- at least until he sees Taemin and Minho chatting quietly outside the door of Taemin and Donghae’s classroom. When they see him coming, the duo split apart, plastering grins to their faces.
“Donghae,” Minho says and he moves to leave, “I hope you’re ready for practice today.”
Donghae can only shrug. He’s not really ready for anything, much less the upcoming soccer match, but he forces a smile to his lips, one that matches Minho’s almost perfectly. “Of course. we’re totally going to win this.”
Taemin smiles, patting his arm, and pulls him into the classroom to where Sungjong is waiting, scribbling furiously in his journal, “That’s the hyung I know.”
Sungjong and Taemin share a glance. They don’t think Donghae notices, but he does, and warmth floods his chest.
***
Practice is excruciating.
Donghae works himself into a state of exhaustion. He knows that this is the match they need, the one match that they have to win if they want to have any plans of going to the playoffs. But Donghae’s got his head in the game again.
Play like Hyukjae is watching, Myungsoo had whispered as they took their opening positions on the field.
Across from him, Donghae sees Minho smirk, and he knows that this will probably be the hardest scrimmage he’s ever played -- Minho is fiercely competitive, and he’s a natural at soccer, so anyone that happens to oppose him usually ends up face-down on the field by the end of the match -- but Myungsoo’s words have given Donghae a ray of hope, and he graps tightly to it as the whistles shrieks and he rushes forward, stealing the ball away from the other team as Minho tried to pass it on the the next person.
At the end of practice, when the entire team has collapsed onto the grass, chests heaving and bodies soaked in a sheen of sweat, their shirts clinging like a second skin, there’s a cheer from the bleachers.
Taemin and Sungjong are waving from one of the middle seconds, voices loud and obnoxious in the steadily darkening dusk. There’s an empty space between the two of them, and a tiny part of Donghae entertains the notion that perhaps Hyukjae had been sitting there watching as well.
***
The next day passes Donghae by in a blur of light, sound, and color. the only time he can focus on anythign is when he sees the stark white of a familiar uniform in the hallway, and he highfives his teammates before drifting back into that blur of motion. There are a couple instances where he think he may have seen Hyukjae, but the boy is gone again before Donghae can be sure.
But some part of him is sure -- it’s Hyukjae -- and the knowledge warms his heart.
***
Donghae stand at the edge of the field, watching as the other team finishes their warm-ups.
The stands are filled to bursting with people -- students and faculty, adults and children alike. In the front row are Sungjong and Taemin, loud and obnoxiously proud, faces painted in the school colors like so many other faces are. But when Donghae takes another look, he doesn’t spot Hyukjae, and his heart begins to sink.
Minho approaches him after a moment, slinging a casual arm across Donghae’s shoulders. “Play like he’s here, Donghae.”
Donghae wants to protest that he wasn’t looking for Hyukjae, but he knows Minho won’t buy it, and he should really stop trying to lie to himself anyway. It’s not a healthy occupation, anyway. Instead, he inclines his head, lips curling at the corners. “Of course I will.”
When the ref blows the whistle a minute later, Donghae steps out onto the field with Minho at his side. They’re both playing as forwards this game, though the coach is likely to move one of them to midfielder at some point because they work so well together. At his back, he can hear Jinki’s excited shriek, Siwon’s laughter, and Yunho’s words of encouragement.
When the game begins, all Donghae can hear above the shuddering of his heart is the whistles as it marks game in.
Although the other team had won the coin toss, Minho is fast and he steals the ball from the other team before they can begin to comprehend what has happened.
He passes it to Donghae who covers and blocks from an opposing midfielder. Ten seconds later, the ball sails into the net, just beyond the fingers of their goalie.
All told, the first point is scored within the first thirty seconds, and the crowd screams its approval.
They lead the game for another twenty minutes, racking up three more points before the other team manages to score their first goal. After that, though, everything begins sliding downhill.
The other team seems to realize that there’s someone gunning to beat them, so they buckle down and begin working to turn the game around.
By halftime, the other teams is winning with six points against their four.
Donghae trudges into the locker room with his team, sagging onto a bench as if the weight of a world presses down upon him. To say that he is exhausted would be an understatement.
There is a flurry of moment and noise from the door, and Sungjong, Taemin, and surprisingly Hyukjae as well push their way through a moment later. They have cold bottles of water and begin passing them around to the team.
There are no words as the boys sit there, each secluded to his thoughts. They know they much do their very best so that the team has a chance of winning. To lose this game will put the rest of their season as nothing, and no one knows this better than they do.
Their coach steps in a few minutes later. He doesn’t offer words of encouragement; he knows the look of a beaten group when he sees it, and he leaves a moment later, head hung in a sigh.
A couple people rise to follow him, ready to get the rest of their beating over with. But anxiety pulls at Donghae’s gut and she rises witha aloud, “Wait!” His legs are weak beneath him, but he stands tall, speaking loud. “We can do this, guys. They may have more muscle than we do, but we’re faster than they are. If we can get the ball from them, we can win this. Twice. We only need it twice, guys.”
Kangin, a defender, glances up then. “What if we can’t get it, Donghae?”
Eeteuk, as his side, elbows Kangin in the side. “Didn’t you hear him? If we can get it, we can keep it. They’re bigger than us, sure, but no bigger than Minho over there--” Minho lets out a cry of exasperation, but he’s grinning all the same; they all are now.
Siwon stands, dropping his bottle of water to the bench. “We can do this. Let’s do this.”
Donghae grins and thrusts his right hand into the area between them. Eeteuk mimics the action without hesitation, quickly followed by Minho and Myungsoo, then Siwon, Jinki, Yunho, and Junsu. A gloved hand, belonging to their goalie Jungmo, joins the pile. After that, Donghae loses track, but the entire teams is eventually standing there, a cohesive unit striving toward their goal.
“One,” Donghae says.
“Two,” Eeteuk agrees.
“Three,” Kangin echoes.
“Hwaiting!” The team screams, hands raising skyward. In the corner of the room, Sungjong, Taemin, and Hyukjae have joined them, and Hyukjae is smiling just as wide as the rest of them. Even when Donghae catches his eye.
Warmth floods Donghae and he doesn’t bother trying to pretend he doesn’t know why.
When they exit the locker room a minute later, they are reunited under their front, and Donghae has never felt prouder than at that moment.
***
When the game starts back up again, Donghae is on the bench. He’d played most of the first half though, so he doesn’t mind a bit of down time. Myungsoo is at his side, watching the game from between narrowed eyes.
Fifteen minutes into the second half, Myungsoo nudges Donghae discreetly with his elbow and points to a bulky guy playing midfielder. “He’s their troublemaker,” Myungsoo murmurs.
Donghae watches the player intently for a moment before realizing that Myungsoo was right. Whenever one of their teammates go down, it’s because of a subtle shove from that player. Donghae grits his teeth as the Eeteuk tumbles to the ground. He lays there, stunned for a moment before rising slowly. He catches Donghae’s eye and Dongahe rises, shifting over to where their coach stands.
“Eeteuk needs out.”
The coach glances at him, then to Eeteuk. He nods once. “You’ll go in for Eeteuk, Myungsoo for Jinki. And...Changmin for Siwon.”
Donghae nods and goes back to relay the message to his teammates. When the ball is kicked out next, the trio rise from their spots and go to the sideline, calling for the teammates they’re subbing for.
Eeteuk gives Donghae a wide grin of relief as they trade places. “Good luck,” he murmurs in passing. “And watch out for number twenty-five.”
All Donghae does is grin. “You know it.”
The game starts back up. Donghae’s team, specifically Changmin, is in possession of the ball. Changmin is small and fast, and he hasn’t played since the first half of the first quarter, so he still has most of his energy. Myungsoo, who is acting as a forward is int he perfect position, so as Changmin dodges the opposing team’s midfielders, he kicks blindly toward Myungsoo. Donghae pushes past his own midfielder to help Myungsoo pass the defenders.
The ball sails into the net with an ease that shocks the entire field into silence.
The whistle shrieks, coding that a goal has been made, and the stands burst into cheers.
As Donghae is walking back to his starting point, he catches the gaze of the player that had kncoked Eeteuk down.
Twenty-five is grinning, and Donghae doesn’t like it one bit.
The next ten minutes are spent forcing their way across their field, speed carrying them the distance only to have the defenders rush forward at the last minute, cutting the waiting player offsides.
With five minutes left in the second half, the teams scores their sixth point, and the score is finally tied.
Donghae is rotated from midfielder to forward while Myungsoo takes his old position, and Minho is rotated in as the second forward. The three exchange a glance, Myungsoo silently warning them to keep an eye on number twenty-five while Minho and Donghae choose their battle plan.
When the whistles shriekes this time, Donghae rushes forward and clashes with twenty-five. Myungsoo and Minho push past him securing the ball and retreating it so the team can pass it back to a safer position.
Donghae retreats with them, flashing the other boy a grin. they pass the ball between them for another moment, killing time, before rushing forward.
Myungsoo has the ball, and he kicks it to Donghae as Minho dances around the midfielder rushing toward him. Donghae kicks it to Minho when the other boy is in the clear, and they continue making their way down the field. The stands are on their feet, voices a screaming chorus against the thunderous cadence their hearts drill in their chests.
Out of nowhere, a weight crashes into Donghae, and pain lances through his leg.
Donghae crumples.
Time stops.
The whistle shrieks agains the backdrop of stunned silence, then the stands burst into screams, and they sound like his name.
***
When Donghae comes to a minute later, all he can see are faces swimming in the air above his.
Someone exhales loudly, calls, “He’s awake!”
Donghae groans, rubs at his head. Minho is perched by his side. “You okay?”
“Did you catch the number of the train that hit me?” Donghae asks in response.
A wry smile bit at Minho’s lips. “Twenty-five.”
Donghae groans. “What an asshat.”
“Red cards are wonderful. He got you though; coach says you’re done for the night.”
Another groan, this one louder. “Penalty kick?”
“We get one, yeah, but coach says--”
“Screw coach,” Donghae grunts as he rises to his feet.
The ref approaches then, giving him a once-over. “Are you fit to play, or do you need a sub?”
“I’m not bleeding am I?” The referee shakes his head after a moemnt, and Dongahe grins. “Guess I’m playing then.” Minho opens his mouth to protest, but Donghae elbows him in the side. “I’ll also take the penalty shot, if it’s all the same.” The ref nods, albeit a bit unsure, before blowing his whistle and calling for players to rise from their kneel.
Donghae walks over to the ball, staring it down. “You know where to go, right,” he mumbles and Minho moves to pas shim.
Minho arches a brow and grins. “I’ll be there.”
When everyone is back in place, Donghae moves to the ball. He eyes an opening to the right where a swath of open space had appeared. But, as he approached it, he twisted his body, sending the ball off to the left where Minho was waiting to intercept.
It’s a simple one-two move. Before the other team can respond, they’re got their winning goal.
The timer runs down five seconds later and, for a long moment, no one moves and the stands are silent. Then a section of the front row erupts into cheers, and the entire stand follows not long after.
Dongahe is swept up into a sea of people. They mob him, patting him on the back, shaking his hand, ruffling his hair, and then moving on to congratulate Minho and the others of the team.
In a lull of people, Donghae sees Hyukjae standing by the opposite goal, and he slowly makes his way over there, trying to keep as much weight off of his leg as he can. Now that the game is over, his body is beginning to catelogue the injuries, and his leg is in a continuous cycle of ache.
“You’re probably the oldest fifth-grader I’ve ever seen,” Hyukjae says with a dry chuckle.
“I...what?” Dongahe had expected something along the lines of, good game. Being compared to a fifth grader was not in his life of post-game acceptance mesages.
“You’re like a fifth grader,” Hyukjae says, nodding this time. “You bullied me after that day because you thougth I was cute.”
“I....what? But how did you find out?”
“Taemin and Sungjong love playing matchmaker,” Hyukaje says effortlessly.
“Oh.” Dongahe’s expression falters that. “Is that...bad?”
Hyukjae rolls his eyes. “No. But it’s the truth. You acted like such a little kid, Donghae.”
But Donghae is okay with this, and he smiles. “Well, then I’m the cutest fifth grader you’ve ever seen, right?”
There is an abrupt silence, then Hyukjae grins. “Yeah, maybe you are.”
But with the way Hyukjae leans forward into his arms and up for Dongahe to kiss him, Donghae is pretty sure they both know the truth.