Ship/Member: Mingyu/Jeonghan Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: ice hockey au, the winter Olympics, rejection Permission to remix: Yes
Here are two things Kim Mingyu knows: Yoon Jeonghan is the best ice hockey winger in South Korea and being the best ice hockey winger in South Korea is like being the best fish in the Gobi Desert. So, when the Winter Olympics come to Pyeongchang and the South Korean men’s national team slips into the games with host privileges and gloriously unburdened by merit, things get tense.
Being the big fish in the tiniest pond suits Jeonghan. He has their team wrapped around his twice-broken little finger. He’s not the captain - their first-line left defenceman is – but he is adored beyond all reasonable team dynamics. In the locker room, everyone turns to him when he walks in through the doors. Mingyu has never seen him carry his own equipment bag. He only has to open his mouth as he comes to the bench between shifts and someone’s already pouring Gatorade into it. More than often, all of those people are Mingyu. Being aware of your own embarrassing behaviour doesn’t exactly stop you from doing it.
At the Olympics, though, it becomes painfully, humiliatingly, obvious how much they lack and how far out of their depth they are. They play three games, and the highlight of the whole thing is that the practically inevitable eight-to-nothing loss comes at the hand of Switzerland, while they only lose four-nothing to Canada. Looking at Jeonghan during the Group A preliminaries hurts. It’s like someone went into photoshop and dialled his saturation to minimum. He’s quiet and shies away from all attention, refuses to speak to the press in anything but Korean. He comes to the rink, wears his skates for the required three periods, and disappears back to the Olympic Village, leaving a desolate locker room behind. Seungcheol, with the C stitched on the chest of his jersey, tries his best to inspire, but it’s more apparent than ever that the only reason he wears the C is because Jeonghan refused it.
Their last game is the one against Canada and after it’s over, and they glide in a line to shake hands, not even the Canadians are jubilant. Probably, Mingyu thinks, looking one of them square in the eyes and smiling brightly in defiance, it feels like taking candy from a baby. On their birthday.
“Good game,” he says, practiced, to the Canadian captain, some AHL burnout who he doesn’t recognise because the NHL wouldn’t let their players attend the Games. In front of him, he sees Jeonghan breeze past all of them, muttering something distinctly not-English and heading straight towards the tunnel. Being angry at Jeonghan feels like doing something forbidden, but the sudden fury blinds him. Mingyu showers and dresses quickly, keeping an eye on Jeonghan all the while. Their Games are over and they have nothing to show for it, and he will not let Jeonghan abandon them to stew in their quiet misery. He’s ready to leave as soon as Jeonghan heads towards the door with nothing more than a quick wave of his hand.
“I’m coming with you,” Mingyu says, catching the door Jeonghan opens and following him out basically nipping at his heels. Jeonghan throws a sullen look over his shoulder, eyes half-hidden behind still-wet hair. He’s carrying his own equipment bag now.
“I’m not in the mood, Mingyu,” he says. His voice is hoarse and dull from uselessly screaming like a batshit banshee all throughout the game. For all his withdrawnness off-ice, on-ice he’s as loud and bossy as he always is. He’s just usually not playing against people with a hundred times the salary and resources he has.
“Yeah, well, I haven’t been in the mood to watch you bail out on us every day for a week. We don’t always get what we want.”
“What do you want?” Jeonghan hisses once they make it through the crowded tunnels and into the really bleak back hallways of the rink. He drops his bag from his shoulder and spins around to face Mingyu, even though sans skates, he’s almost a head shorter. “From me? Right now? What do you want me to say?”
“You don’t need to say anything. I don’t need bullshit platitudes; I need you to be there. This whole stupid team spins around you and you know it, and you love it, so you can’t bail the moment things don’t go your way, you asshole.”
Jeonghan is still pale, but now there are flushes of livid red on his high cheekbones.
“I don’t know where this elaborate fantasy you have of me came from, but I’m not your mother or your boyfriend or your fucking captain. Back off. No one on this team fawns over me except you. I’ve never asked you for any of the favours you’ve done for me, and I don’t owe you shit outside the ice just because you have a fucking crush.”
It feels like the floor being yanked out from underneath his feet. Like Jeonghan has quick-turned on his skates and sprayed him with ice. His ears are ringing with panic.
For a moment, there is only the empty hallway, the barely-there light, the humiliation burning through every vein of Mingyu’s body. And then Jeonghan, fuck him, softens. Mingyu’s been through a lot of embarrassment in the last week but he will not survive Yoon Jeonghan’s pity.
“Mingyu-“
“Don’t,” Mingyu chokes out, trying to walk around him. His hands are shaking so badly he has trouble holding onto the strap of his own bag.
“Hey, hey,” Jeonghan soothes, grabbing his wrist and stopping him, “I’m sorry. That was cruel.” What is left unsaid is the But I meant it, “Here,” he slips a hand under Mingyu’s shoulder strap and Mingyu’s bag is on Jeonghan’s shoulder before he can react. Jeonghan makes an exaggerated little oof noise at the weight. Defencemen’s pads are so much denser than a forward’s. The panic loses its icy hot edge.
“I can’t go back there,” Jeonghan tells him, tilting his head towards where they came from, “Let’s just walk for a bit, okay?” The thing is, Mingyu shouldn’t. Obviously, he shouldn’t. Clearly, whatever he thought -- Well. He was wrong. Jeonghan has made that clear, and whatever this is, is just him doing damage control out of pity. Mingyu shouldn’t stay. He should take his bag, wish Jeonghan a happy rest of the Games, leave and make use of a few of the hundred thousand free condoms available in the Olympic Village with someone he won’t ever have to see again unless they medal and are shown on the big screens.
Jeonghan starts walking again, Mingyu’s bag on one shoulder, his own on the other. His steps are slow, questioning.
Mingyu exhales and follows.
// i'm pretty sure this is deeply against the intended vibe of the prompt but ice hockey is the only thing i know anything about. perhaps... the one falling for fool's gold.... is jeonghan.
[FILL] that's not the way it feels
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: ice hockey au, the winter Olympics, rejection
Permission to remix: Yes
Here are two things Kim Mingyu knows: Yoon Jeonghan is the best ice hockey winger in South Korea and being the best ice hockey winger in South Korea is like being the best fish in the Gobi Desert. So, when the Winter Olympics come to Pyeongchang and the South Korean men’s national team slips into the games with host privileges and gloriously unburdened by merit, things get tense.
Being the big fish in the tiniest pond suits Jeonghan. He has their team wrapped around his twice-broken little finger. He’s not the captain - their first-line left defenceman is – but he is adored beyond all reasonable team dynamics. In the locker room, everyone turns to him when he walks in through the doors. Mingyu has never seen him carry his own equipment bag. He only has to open his mouth as he comes to the bench between shifts and someone’s already pouring Gatorade into it. More than often, all of those people are Mingyu. Being aware of your own embarrassing behaviour doesn’t exactly stop you from doing it.
At the Olympics, though, it becomes painfully, humiliatingly, obvious how much they lack and how far out of their depth they are. They play three games, and the highlight of the whole thing is that the practically inevitable eight-to-nothing loss comes at the hand of Switzerland, while they only lose four-nothing to Canada. Looking at Jeonghan during the Group A preliminaries hurts. It’s like someone went into photoshop and dialled his saturation to minimum. He’s quiet and shies away from all attention, refuses to speak to the press in anything but Korean. He comes to the rink, wears his skates for the required three periods, and disappears back to the Olympic Village, leaving a desolate locker room behind. Seungcheol, with the C stitched on the chest of his jersey, tries his best to inspire, but it’s more apparent than ever that the only reason he wears the C is because Jeonghan refused it.
Their last game is the one against Canada and after it’s over, and they glide in a line to shake hands, not even the Canadians are jubilant. Probably, Mingyu thinks, looking one of them square in the eyes and smiling brightly in defiance, it feels like taking candy from a baby. On their birthday.
“Good game,” he says, practiced, to the Canadian captain, some AHL burnout who he doesn’t recognise because the NHL wouldn’t let their players attend the Games. In front of him, he sees Jeonghan breeze past all of them, muttering something distinctly not-English and heading straight towards the tunnel. Being angry at Jeonghan feels like doing something forbidden, but the sudden fury blinds him.
Mingyu showers and dresses quickly, keeping an eye on Jeonghan all the while. Their Games are over and they have nothing to show for it, and he will not let Jeonghan abandon them to stew in their quiet misery. He’s ready to leave as soon as Jeonghan heads towards the door with nothing more than a quick wave of his hand.
“I’m coming with you,” Mingyu says, catching the door Jeonghan opens and following him out basically nipping at his heels. Jeonghan throws a sullen look over his shoulder, eyes half-hidden behind still-wet hair. He’s carrying his own equipment bag now.
“I’m not in the mood, Mingyu,” he says. His voice is hoarse and dull from uselessly screaming like a batshit banshee all throughout the game. For all his withdrawnness off-ice, on-ice he’s as loud and bossy as he always is. He’s just usually not playing against people with a hundred times the salary and resources he has.
“Yeah, well, I haven’t been in the mood to watch you bail out on us every day for a week. We don’t always get what we want.”
“What do you want?” Jeonghan hisses once they make it through the crowded tunnels and into the really bleak back hallways of the rink. He drops his bag from his shoulder and spins around to face Mingyu, even though sans skates, he’s almost a head shorter. “From me? Right now? What do you want me to say?”
“You don’t need to say anything. I don’t need bullshit platitudes; I need you to be there. This whole stupid team spins around you and you know it, and you love it, so you can’t bail the moment things don’t go your way, you asshole.”
Jeonghan is still pale, but now there are flushes of livid red on his high cheekbones.
“I don’t know where this elaborate fantasy you have of me came from, but I’m not your mother or your boyfriend or your fucking captain. Back off. No one on this team fawns over me except you. I’ve never asked you for any of the favours you’ve done for me, and I don’t owe you shit outside the ice just because you have a fucking crush.”
It feels like the floor being yanked out from underneath his feet. Like Jeonghan has quick-turned on his skates and sprayed him with ice. His ears are ringing with panic.
For a moment, there is only the empty hallway, the barely-there light, the humiliation burning through every vein of Mingyu’s body. And then Jeonghan, fuck him, softens. Mingyu’s been through a lot of embarrassment in the last week but he will not survive Yoon Jeonghan’s pity.
“Mingyu-“
“Don’t,” Mingyu chokes out, trying to walk around him. His hands are shaking so badly he has trouble holding onto the strap of his own bag.
“Hey, hey,” Jeonghan soothes, grabbing his wrist and stopping him, “I’m sorry. That was cruel.” What is left unsaid is the But I meant it, “Here,” he slips a hand under Mingyu’s shoulder strap and Mingyu’s bag is on Jeonghan’s shoulder before he can react. Jeonghan makes an exaggerated little oof noise at the weight. Defencemen’s pads are so much denser than a forward’s. The panic loses its icy hot edge.
“I can’t go back there,” Jeonghan tells him, tilting his head towards where they came from, “Let’s just walk for a bit, okay?”
The thing is, Mingyu shouldn’t. Obviously, he shouldn’t. Clearly, whatever he thought -- Well. He was wrong. Jeonghan has made that clear, and whatever this is, is just him doing damage control out of pity. Mingyu shouldn’t stay. He should take his bag, wish Jeonghan a happy rest of the Games, leave and make use of a few of the hundred thousand free condoms available in the Olympic Village with someone he won’t ever have to see again unless they medal and are shown on the big screens.
Jeonghan starts walking again, Mingyu’s bag on one shoulder, his own on the other. His steps are slow, questioning.
Mingyu exhales and follows.
// i'm pretty sure this is deeply against the intended vibe of the prompt but ice hockey is the only thing i know anything about. perhaps... the one falling for fool's gold.... is jeonghan.