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Chapter Text

Sanghyeok ushers him into his house, wrapping an arm around his shoulders for support.

“Minseok-ah. Breathe,” he tells him gently, leading Minseok to his couch.

He places a box of tissues on the table and leaves briefly to the kitchen to grab a glass of water for Minseok. Minseok blows his nose into the tissues offered, wincing as he dumps it in the trashcan nearby. How ungraceful. How undignified. Stepping into Sanghyeok’s house and ruining it too. 

Sanghyeok doesn’t prod, he doesn’t ask why. He just tells Minseok to breathe, to take a sip of water, and sits there until Minseok gathers himself just enough to form a single sentence. 

“I’m sorry,” Minseok starts.

“Please don’t be,” Sanghyeok urges, “there is nothing for you to apologise for.”

“I’m ruined.”

“Minseok,” Sanghyeok says, softly.

“Sanghyeok hyung, I’m ruined.”

“Minseok,” Sanghyeok repeats, a little sterner. 

Minseok stares forlornly at the high ceilings in Sanghyeok’s house. 

“Sanghyeok hyung, if time is supposed to erase all pain, why can’t I forget my past?” he asks. 

Sanghyeok, seated facing him on an armchair nearby, purses his lips together and laces his fingers together. 

“Time won’t erase anything, Minseok,” Sanghyeok replies, “your life isn’t letters carved on shifting sands.”

“Then how will I erase my past? It keeps coming back to haunt me. Hyung, I’m sorry you ended up with someone like me in T1. I’m sorry I’m bothering you even after I left the company,” Minseok cries.

Minseok really doesn’t understand himself sometimes. 

He had plans in his head before he came to see Sanghyeok. He was going to ask about Minhyung, wish T1 the best in the remaining Spring split round robins, and maybe do a bit of catching up with his old team captain. But seeing Sanghyeok made all his well-made plans wither away, like an ephemeral plant dying before the winter. 

When their team’s resolve was crumbling away in 2021 with the ten man roster, Minseok, the only constant, had talked a lot to Sanghyeok. Asked him for advice on staying consistent, on being less emotional, and on trying to simply enjoy the game. Sanghyeok had admitted back then that he was learning too, and that he was sorry he did not have better answers for Minseok.

But he had told Minseok that it was more important that Minseok even asked about it in the first place - that as long has he had the drive to improve, to learn, his potential would be boundless. That to learn and grow was his best virtue,  that he had to learn to cast nets and be okay without catching a single thing. 

Why would you cast a net where there was no fish? Like this, Minseok had thought all hardships had to come with lessons. That surely, there was a calm after every storm, and that April showers would bring May flowers. 

“You will never be a bother to me. Do not think this way of yourself. If you need help, I will be more than happy to extend my time for you,” Sanghyeok says, “but Minseok, I really need you to forgive yourself.” 

Minseok knows that much is true. He has heard Hyeokgyu say it to him. He has heard Kwanghee say it to him. He has heard his own mother tell him this, one night when she found him in his room, crying so hard he couldn’t breathe, laptop open to T1 winning the 2023 LCK Summer final. 

He has been spending the past four years of his life trying to come to terms with the decisions he made on his own behalf. But even after talking to so many people, even after having so many lived experiences, Minseok still cannot absolve the guilt consuming his heart whole. 

It is so easy to say that it will be okay. Minseok does not believe he made the wrong choice by leaving T1. Wooje’s right - he left a team, not a life. But logically, he should have stayed in contact with the others. Even a few ARAMs here and there, a simple text on their birthdays, maybe occasional meetups if he took the KTX into Seoul for a day trip. But Minseok can’t do that. Because Minseok loves and longs so deeply that if he wanted to succeed in the path he chose, he would have to abandon everything and go full force at his studies. 

There was no longer a contingency plan. University was the last chance for Minseok to prove to himself that he hadn’t destroyed everything with his bare hands. That he still had a future to look forward to after the days he loved dearly crumbled away into the wind. If he had kept in touch with them, Minseok thought that he would have kept thinking about it, if they had told him stories of Juniper, he was terrified he would have come running back at their first call. 

Minseok knows himself a little too well, and loves T1 a little too much. 

On each of their respective birthdays, he buys a small cake and lights a single candle. He watches around fifteen minutes, or however long he can tolerate without breaking down, of their birthday streams and sends a single donation wishing them happiness. The first two years were too hard for him, but he found the courage to go to a Gumayusi birthday cafe event in Busan in the third, buying a cup of hot chocolate. After returning home, he tucked the cupsleeve with Minhyung’s face printed on the side into the small pile of fan letters he collected back when he was still Keria. 

He felt reassured that day. That there were so many people who adored Gumayusi for who he was. But despite this, Minseok can’t help but feel slightly indignant sometimes. He thinks, I knew Lee Minhyung. I loved Lee Minhyung. 

And he loved me back.

Minseok feels so sick for thinking that way. To continually hold onto what he dissolved with his bare hands, to still feel deserving of being the recipient of the love of the best person that was in his life. 

“How should I do that? I tried, hyung, I tried everything. I tried to forget. I tried new hobbies. I tried to focus on my studies. I tried to leave you all behind. I moved away from Seoul even though I had a university offer here because I tried to run away as far as I could. Hyung, I think it’s chasing after me. The desires I trampled into the ground, I think I didn’t hit them hard enough. Didn’t bury them deep enough. And now, all I can do is want, ” Minseok blurts, his head pounding and his heart racing.

“Minseok. I’ve never ever held a grudge against you for leaving, and none of the T1 members have. Forgive me for saying this, and I do not blame you for anything, but I often wish that you would have just come to talk to us about it. Retiring is not easy, Minseok, but retiring alone is harder,” Sanghyeok admits, softly.

-

Sanghyeok’s seen Minseok through most of his career. Once an almost untouchable figure to Minseok, he had his barriers brought down and sharp edges smoothed by the support over the two years they’d been on the same team. He’s seen Minseok cry, seen him scream in frustration, and seen him break down. He’s seen Minseok shout in victorious joy, celebrate in glee, and seen him smile with his entire being, his happiness lighting up every corner of the room. He’s been with Minseok at his highest highs and at his lowest lows, and he’s quite sure he knows about seventy percent of Minseok. 

The other thirty percent is attributed to Minseok’s prolific status as an enigma . Minseok could cry, but he’d always pick himself up in front of the T1 members, almost as quickly as he fell. All his emotions tucked away in a tiny part of his heart away from the T1 members for what Sanghyeok recognises as a need to not be an inconvenience to his teammates. Minseok was small in stature, sure, but his emotional intelligence was vast, and this level of perception led to him bringing all of his burden onto himself. 

After a particularly bad loss in scrims, Sanghyeok once asked Minseok if he had been okay, since he looked a little down. Minseok gave him a half-hearted smile in return and replied softly with a simple, “Hyung, you don’t die from being sad.”

Sanghyeok vehemently disagreed with this statement, but didn’t want to show it to Minseok at the time, who was already so fragile but holding himself up so proud even then. You die from being sad. You die from being happy, you die from so many different things because you are human. 

“But if you are to live, Minseok, would you not want to do it happily? I don’t want you to have so many burdens day-to-day. My wish for you, like for every one of our teammates, is that you enjoy what you’re doing.”

Minseok’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, but he held a hand out to pat Sanghyeok’s shoulder reassuringly. 

“I love what I’m doing right now, hyung. Don’t worry, you know I’ll bounce back, I always do,” he replied, gently.

Sanghyeok is never in the business of saving. He doesn’t know how to make people stay. 

He’s seen more people leave his side than anyone else in the industry. The longer his career, the more he’s had to get used to goodbyes and farewells. Some temporary. Some forever. 

But he’s good at knowing when people are at the end of the line. He started getting good about four years into his career, and the longer it stretched out, the more sensitive he became to such things. 

Deep down, Sanghyeok knew.

To Keria, soon, this would be just the end of a long dream.

God willing that Ryu Minseok would be happier in the future. 

-

“I didn’t retire alone. I had all of you,” Minseok brings himself up just enough to smile back.

“But you made the decision alone,” Sanghyeok says, “we all slump. We all have days when we play badly, when we think we bring the team down, but at the end of day, we’re a team. We’re a team whether you like it or not, and one season, one tournament, one match, one game - none of those define us as players.”

“Is that easy for you to say because you’re already so accomplished? You’re the legendary unkillable demon king, hyung. Every game you play is just a drop in the ocean to you. But me- I have nothing. I’m just someone that gave up my career because playing a fucking computer game got too hard.”

“Minseok, I am begging you to start forgiving yourself. You can’t do it in one day, I know that as well as you do. But if you can’t even start to pry a single finger away from where you’re still tightly holding onto the past, how will you fly?” Sanghyeok asks.

“I don’t need to fly,” Minseok says, petulantly, though he knows exactly what Sanghyeok means, “I’m not a bird.”

“Right, nobody’s a bird. So live your life like a human, Minseok,” Sanghyeok says. 

Ryu Minseok isn’t a bird. That much he knows. Birds fly. Birds are free. Birds migrate in big groups.

“I don’t know. I just don’t know, hyung. I’m not at any crossroads. I’ve got a pretty stable job. I’m probably gonna do this line of work for the rest of my life. I don’t mind it at all, I’m not unhappy, but there are just so many people in Seoul. There are so many memories here that I can’t give up on.”

“Who said you need to give up on those memories? Good, bad, neutral. We carry everything with us. Our baskets don’t stay the same size. They grow with us, they expand, and eventually, we can carry the universe on our shoulders,” Sanghyeok reasons, “and that is how we become greater than ourselves. Carrying what you call your past lives on your back, honouring them, and trudging ahead.”

“I don’t have any past lives,” Minseok says, “I live only once.”

Sanghyeok tilts his head to the side, a watchful glint in his eye. 

“See? You’re growing, Minseok. Keria would have agreed with me. And I know you are no longer Keria, but that was once you too. So tell me. Why did you come find me today?”

Sanghyeok still has some ability to see through Minseok. Even with all the armour and tenacity he puts up to maintain his facade, Sanghyeok knows that all Minseok wants is his last chance at redemption. 

Minseok wonders if things would have been a lot different if he hadn’t retired alone like Sanghyeok thinks he did. But even if he can’t save his career anymore, at the very least, he hopes that he can save the precious relationships that he should have treasured properly all those years ago.

Tell me about Minhyung, hyung. Please. 

“Tell me how I should apologise to Minhyung,” he says, instead.

“I told you, there is no need for apologies-” Sanghyeok reiterates, but he’s quickly cut off by Minseok again.

“I can’t do that. I can’t pretend nothing happened between the two of us. I tried. It’s impossible. Hyung, I’m telling you,” Minseok says, between long breaths dragged out, “I made a mistake. I can’t live a life where I don’t love him anymore.”

“Then don’t, Minseok. Live a life where you love him like you want to. I’m really not in a place to talk about him, Minseok,” Sanghyeok sighs, then continues, “but something tells me you should talk to him directly.”

“Hyung, I saw him a few days ago at the ramen restaurant I used to like. I had to share a table with him. We didn’t really talk much there. He asked me to stop talking about other supports. I told him to take care of himself. We’re so stiff. I don’t know how to make conversation with him anymore. It eats at me, hyung, how I was so stubborn that I left without even saying a word to him back then,” Minseok recounts with a bitter smile on his face, “I regret a lot of things, but I think I regret not talking to him more. I regret not saying goodbye. I regret not knowing what could have been.”

What we could have been.

A wry smile appears on Sanghyeok’s lips.

“You’re so smart, Keria. I’m sure you can figure out why yourself,” Sanghyeok says elusively, “everything about Minhyung - I think you know better than me, to be honest. I ran alongside him these past few years, but to be honest, I still think he's still a hard shell to crack. It’s like, um, eating crab without a crab claw cracker.”

Minseok laughs, taken aback.

“Don’t compare Minhyung to a crab! He’s also a human.”

“And so are you. Don’t worry, life is very long, and you’re just getting started,” Sanghyeok reassures, “I know it’s hard. But I hope you won’t look back on your time at T1 and feel it was a pity. I’ll speak for myself, Minseok. I really, really enjoyed playing alongside you. I’m sorry we didn’t win a World championship, but-”

“Hyung! Don’t apologise for us losing,” Minseok butts in.

Sanghyeok stands up, walks over to where Minseok's currently perched indignantly on the edge of the sofa, and pats his shoulder. 

“I know. But you see, Minseok, I have lots of growing to do too.”

“Hmph. If even a god like you has slip ups, guess it’s okay for a mortal for me to trip and fall sometimes,” Minseok jokes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m glad you’re back. I missed you.” 

Minseok doesn’t hold back the tears anymore, letting them flow freely down his cheeks. He’s been doing an awful lot of crying since he’s been back in Seoul, but he supposes it’s okay if it’s been for the surplus of love and happiness and longing and regret mashing together.

“I’m glad I’m back too, Sanghyeok-hyung.”

After another round of petting and reassurance, Sanghyeok whips up a pot of noodles for Minseok, who hasn’t eaten dinner yet. He watches Minseok eat, and takes the time to send over a contact to Minseok’s Kakaotalk. Minseok takes a look at the notification on his phone, swiping up and stilling so abruptly his chopsticks almost come clattering down.

“Minhyung’s number. He said it was okay to send over,” Sanghyeok says.

“Does he know I talked to you?” Minseok asks, fear lacing his voice.

Surely Sanghyeok would never sell him out, but with Minhyung, he really couldn’t be too confident in anything. Sanghyeok shakes his head in reply, sighing.

“Four years ago, he gave me a small request. He told me that if you ever came back, that if I found you first, I could give you his number if I thought the timing was right. Like I said - whenever you’re ready to talk to him, his heart is open to you as well. Always. As mine is.”

“But it’s been four years-”

“Minseok-ah, four years is less than a third of my career. But who am I to comment on the passing of time? You can do whatever you want with Minhyung’s number. Time is not really kind on us, but we can treat ourselves with some grace to soften the fall. And you know, I really shouldn’t say this, but I think Minhyung would catch you even if it meant breaking his arms in the process,” Sanghyeok tells Minseok. 

Minseok stares so hard at the empty Kakaotalk chat log that he might burn holes into his phone. He doesn’t reply Sanghyeok immediately, instead putting his chopsticks down neatly, and picking his phone up again. 

hi minhyung, this is minseok. here’s my new number/

hi minhyung, this is min/

hi mi/

He puts his phone away leaving the chat log as empty as he finds it, thanks Sanghyeok for dinner and the chat, and promises that he’ll cheer for T1 on Saturday. Sanghyeok looks surprised, like he doesn’t expect Minseok to bring up the next game.

“I’m coming, by the way, Kwanghee-hyung got me tickets,” Minseok says, “T1 fighting, hyung, always.”

“We’ll win, just watch us,” Sanghyeok declares, a determined glint in his eye that Minseok recognises all too well. 

-

Minseok’s phone burns a hole in his pocket the entire way home. Minhyung’s number stares mockingly at him. He hasn’t changed it, the string of numbers vaguely familiar to Minseok. What should he say? Should he even text him anymore? 

Sanghyeok said Minhyung’s still waiting, but what if four years was too long?

Minseok will never be able to accurately measure the hurt he caused. Scale of destruction so wide he feared stepping foot in Seoul for so many years, turning down his dream university offer for one a little closer to home. To him, it was akin to a punishment. That since he had crushed so many dreams leaving, that this would be his payment.

He makes a quick search for Minhyung’s solo rank history on the ride home, secretly pleased that he hasn’t started ranking. Minhyung usually doesn’t rank the day before matches, a habit Minseok had once chastised him into acquiring.

Sanghyeok encouraged him to talk to Minhyung, but how do you look at the face of someone you’ve loved for so long but let down so hard? He feels complicated - his own desire for Minhyung mixing with his hope that Minhyung finds someone to love and who loves him too.

It’s easier to say than believe that he could be that person. How could someone that did so much harm be forgiven? Minseok will pay off this debt for the rest of his life, he is sure, but still, he prays selfishly that he will still be special to Minhyung.

-

“Why do you put so much pressure on yourself? I really don’t get it, Minhyung,” Minseok huffs, spinning around on his chair to face Minhyung.

“It’s not pressure. I just want to do better, to repay the fans, to repay the team,” Minhyung answers back, “it’s self-improvement.”

“Huh, sounds like pressure to me. Don’t worry about it, we can take on the world, you mean you don’t trust the Legendary Genius Monster?” Minseok jokes, “and also, someone half dying from having three hours of sleep in exchange for a massive red carpet won’t be making anyone proud anytime soon.”

“If I sleep now, you’ll carry tomorrow then?”

“You bet! Tomorrow’s victory on me, Minhyung!”

-

Hyeokgyu drops Minseok a text telling him to meet at a small family-run diner near LOL Park for an early lunch before the game tomorrow, and Minseok replies with an affirmative. 

It’s difficult to say he’s not nervous about tomorrow. T1 games are a different ballpark from the DRX vs KT game he attended - those are people he played, ate, and lived with up until the culmination of his career. Deep down, he’s terrified of a lot of things - terrified of being recognised by T1 fans, of relieving his past on T1, of seeing Minhyung. Esports is one thing, T1 is another. He’s been on DRX before too, but as much as he tried to scrub it away, T1 was his lifeblood, his last home in the LCK. 

He goes to sleep, holding his phone close to his chest, Minhyung’s chat log still open on his phone. 

-

Parking isn’t very convenient at LOL Park, so the both of them take public transport down to it the next day, dropping by the diner for lunch first. 

“Nervous?” Hyeokgyu asks, giving a stir to his stew.

Minseok didn’t really sleep well last night, exhaustion clear on his face. 

“A little, I guess. Also, Sanghyeok gave me Minhyung’s number yesterday but I haven’t found the balls to text him yet,” he answers with a drawl, “growing up is so difficult. Coming back to Seoul is so difficult.”

“Hey, you’re here now. You’re even going to a T1 vs DRX game, Minseok. That’s really brave.”

“I don’t know. I need more than bravery to solve this problem. Maybe like a time machine or something,” Minseok sighs.

“Time machines won’t solve anything. You would have just done the same thing because you’d be scared of changing Minhyung’s future,” Hyeokgyu replies calmly, picking up a slice of the seafood pancake they’re sharing and putting it on his plate.

Minseok winces after getting read like a book.

“Hey. Be nice,” he complains.

“I am nice. That was just a normal reply to your previous sentence,” Hyeokgyu shrugs.

“You guys are getting awfully comfy talking about Minhyung and my old teammates now. I swear when I first came back you wouldn’t touch the topic with a ten foot pole.”

“I don’t know if you’re realising it, Minseok, but you’re kinda okay with talking about these things now. And I’m not saying you feel good when you discuss these things, because they’re still difficult topics and you haven’t had the easiest time away from them. But it’s that you’re getting more and more willing and open to talk about it, and I hope that means that you’re letting yourself appreciate all those memories you made with them,” Hyeokgyu says with a small smile.

“What are you so sappy for, hyung?” Minseok says, slightly bashful.

“I told you, you grew up really well, Minseok. You’ve honestly had some pretty shit days. But seeing you a little happier these days - it makes me happy too. You’re more quiet nowadays, and sometimes I miss your liveliness,” Hyeokgyu says earnestly, “but you make my life a lot brighter. I’m really happy you’re back. Kwanghee too. I think both of us don’t want you to look at Seoul like it’s a punishment anymore. Because even though it’s not restful, there is a lot to love here, too.”

Minseok's heart wells up with the simple feeling of being loved. He knows he is loved everywhere he goes. He is loved by Kwanghee and Hyeokgyu. He is loved by Wooje and Hyunjoon. He is loved by Sanghyeok.

And he was loved by Minhyung.

“Hyung. Do you really think I can start over with Minhyung?” he says, a lot quieter, staring at the chilli flakes swirling around in his now lukewarm bowl of stew.

“You can do whatever you put your mind to. I told you, you’re Keria-”

“And he’s Gumayusi,” Minseok says, simply, “but I’m just Ryu Minseok now.”

“What did Sanghyeok say yesterday? If he didn’t dissuade you from talking to him, and even gave you his number, why would you ever think otherwise? You’ve punished yourself for four years, why do you want to make it forty?” 

Minseok’s hand tightens around his phone.

“Yeah. Why would I want to make it forty? Who wants that much pain?” Minseok says, choking up slightly, “I don’t know either, hyung.”

“Talk to him. There’s no point trying to imagine his reply to messages that you won’t even send,” Hyeokgyu says. 

“I know, I know,” Minseok says, “I get it, Hyeokgyu-hyung. I’ll try to fix this. If anything, I’ll just come crying to you and Kwanghee. Deal?”

Hyeokgyu stares at him and gives him a soft smile, holding out his pinkie.

“Deal.”

After they finish up their lunch, Hyeokgyu uploads a picture of their meal into the group chat while strolling to LOL Park with Minseok. 

Good luck Rascal, Hyeokgyu writes below the picture. 

Sorry I couldn’t drop by! Have a good lunch (and we’ll crush T1), Kwanghee replies promptly. 

rascal SEONSU #T1win, Minseok replies.

#T1win, Hyeokgyu adds on.

You guys are really bastards. I gave yall free tickets to a T1 game and you do this to me , Kwanghee types out.

yo, I was on T1 , Minseok rebukes.

I was in a facebook relationship with an ex T1 ADC , Hyeokgyu reasons.

But I'm your BROTHER!!! Rascal argues back, and Hyeokgyu your reason REALLY sucks I’m gonna need an expensive dinner in return.

Okay, our next dinner on me, Hyeokgyu replies.

-

Once at LOL Park, they redeem their tickets at the DRX booth, and get a placard each from the staff member. Minseok feels a few stares directed towards them, but brushes the unease off and focuses on his sign.

Hyeokgyu’s sign says DRX fighting in a neat script. Minseok decided to put down Coach Rascal, fight for victory!!!! instead, after coming to a consensus that their two signs should represent support for both DRX and Kwanghee.

“Relax,” Hyeokgyu leans in to murmur, noticing how unsettled Minseok seems, “pros attend these games all the time.”

“And? I’m not a pro,” Minseok whispers back, “are they looking at me because I became old and ugly?”

“You know what, just take it that they’re staring at me because I’m good looking,” Hyeokgyu deadpans.

Minseok gives him a look of disgust, then continues scrawling away on the palm of his hand. 

The tension in the air is palpable - T1 are on track to achieve yet another unbeaten double round robin, and the fans are determined and passionate as always. The screen outside the studio is lined with fans donning red and black jackets, with a considerably smaller section in blue. 

Most of the fans in the ticketed seats are also either donning the colours of the team or official team jerseys or jackets. Minseok pinches self-consciously at his plain black shirt and looks around at the sea of blue and white around him. 

“Should I have worn my DRX jacket?” he asks, cautiously, “I think I’m actually standing out more wearing this stupid black shirt.”

“Minseok-ah, I thought you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself by having any so called ‘team affiliations’,” Hyeokgyu reminds helpfully, putting the last part in air quotes.

“You know, if I really, really wanted that I wouldn’t be coming with you.”

“I guess,” Hyeokgyu says, “but you do know that there will be a non-zero chance of getting filmed right? That comes with sitting right next to me.”

“Uh, well. Not like I have anything to hide. I’m not a criminal,” Minseok says, redirecting his gaze to the floor, “anyways, who’s gonna remember my pixelated face on the screen? They’re just gonna pan to some sick ass fanart 5 seconds later.”

Inside the studio, Minseok can hear the alternating chants of ‘ T1 Fighting!’ and ‘ DRX Fighting!’ ringing in his head. The timer ticking down on the main screen fills him with a certain kind of dread, and he holds onto his sign so hard he crumples both edges of it. 

The casters announce the walkout of the teams, DRX, followed by T1. Minseok’s seen them a thousand times on his computer screen. Maybe a thousand more in real life, if you count the days right. But when he sees the five of them line up before the crowd to take a bow as T1, the uncomfortable feeling in his heart won’t go away.

This is his first time seeing Minhyung with the intention to in three years. The last time was Worlds in 2023, where it hurt so much he left before he could even see Minhyung lift the Summoner’s Cup, slowly picking golden confetti out of his hair as he excused himself from his row.

Minhyung looks good today. Minseok thinks Minhyung always looks good, but Minseok knows he puts in extra effort to style his hair nicely whenever he plays in front of fans. The cocky grin Minseok’s learned to grow so fond of slapped on his face, turning all sorts of directions to wave to the fans. Minseok and Hyeokgyu are seated deep in the DRX side, but in a studio audience of only two hundred, his true only way out is to dig a hole in the ground and jump into it.

Minseok sees Minhyung’s vision swing over to the DRX crowd, and immediately turns to Hyeokgyu feigning a whisper as he sees Minhyung’s eyes reach his section. 

What exactly is he doing it for? The love of performance? He holds out his clammy palm shakily, reading the words on it again. It already smudged. Hyeokgyu’s eyes flit to his palm, and he sighs. 

“Minseok-ah, you love them so much you don’t know what to do.”

Minseok scowls. 

“Don’t call me out like that,” he bites back quietly, clenching his hand into a fist, “today, I’m a DRX fan through and through.”

Five minutes before the game starts, the camera crew begin zooming into the audience, featuring interesting signs from fans of both teams. Minseok’s distracted by a cute drawing of Wooje when all of a sudden, of course - the camera pans onto them. Minseok lets out a small, shocked gasp, pulling his sign over his face as Hyeokgyu waves his sign at the camera. Minseok waves at the camera slightly, unfurling his fingers just enough for the blurry writing on his palm to be seen as it pans to the next fan. 

Written on his palm is a small, very small, T1 fighting! with a four leaf clover doodled beside it. Too small to be read carefully or deciphered. Just big enough for it to appear as a blob of pixels on the big screen. 

Minseok hopes his wishes get sent to the five of them. 

Watching the game is a strange experience for Minseok. He’s seen Juniper before. A tall, bespectacled and lanky teenager around Wooje’s height, he brings himself around with a kind of exuberance that Minseok would compare to Siwoo-hyung’s. Always smiling, always cheerful, Minseok secretly likes him so much. But when he’s seated in the chair next to Minhyung’s, JUNIPER splashed over the back of his jersey, and Minseok’s just another audience member, he feels so jealous he could cry.

It’s all different now, he knows. Juniper fits right into their ZOFGJ - now ZOJGJ - and Minseok wonders if he even had a place there in the first place. So many championship wins off the backs of Juniper’s incredible engages and super plays, Minseok feels his heart shatter seeing his Thresh play during the first game. 

Half of his heart is telling him he could do that. That he had done that. The other half is telling him that if he had truly done that, maybe he’d have a Lux World's skin by now.

Both halves are disintegrating in his hollow rib cage. 

Unsurprisingly, T1 ends up sweeping the game. It isn’t even close, with Minhyung getting his first pentakill of the season on Jinx and winning a POG, with Hyunjoon winning the other on Sejuani. Minseok claps alongside the audience.

Though they lost, Kwanghee still looks reasonably happy with his players. He pats them all on the back, not forgetting to give a wave towards Hyeokgyu and Minseok’s direction before walking back to the waiting rooms. 

“That was a good game,” Minseok says, turning to Hyeokgyu, biting back his angry, hot tears. He hopes his mask covers up most of the tumultuous expression on his face. 

“Hmm. You okay?”

“I will be,” Minseok replies, staring, eyes glazed over, at the POG interview on stage.

“Hello everyone! Congratulations to T1 for the win, and we’ll commence the POG interview right now. Gumayusi, with your pentakill in the first game, you’ve comfortably at the top of the POG ranking. Any words to say about this achievement?” Bae Hyeji announces.

“Um, thank you. I was aiming to get more POG points this season, and I’m happy I managed to reach my goal. I’ll work harder in the coming days and I hope I stay at the top of the leaderboard.”

“In the first game, you and Juniper played Jinx-Thresh. Can you tell us more about this pick?”

Minhyung’s eyes drift slowly towards Minseok’s section, looking in his general direction.

“Jinx has always been a pick that I’ve been confident in. Juniper’s Thresh has been really good, and I thank him for that. I’ve played with a lot of good Thresh’s in my career. I’m grateful.”

Ridiculous statement , Minseok wants to scoff, when you’ve only played with two Thresh players your whole career. 

“Thank you Gumayusi! Now Oner! Congratulations on another POG, you’re now third in the ranking. Your Sejuani pick is consistently bringing wins to the team, any secret to the pick?” she continues, motioning for Hyunjoon to reply.

“Eo. I just have to do what’s good for the team, and engage at the right time, I think. I’ve had a lot of practice, and the team synergy’s been really good,” Hyunjoon drawls.

“Ah, I see! Do you have any last words for your fans today?”

”Thanks to all the fans for coming down. We’ll work hard to show you a good side of us this coming spring. And, uh, we’re aiming for the top this time too.”

How many LCK trophies will that make it? His own feels like a distant lifetime ago. Him and Hyeokgyu leave shortly after the interview ends, and Minseok realises that they were only one of the few audience members in the DRX segment that stayed back for the T1 interview. 

So much for getting rid of team affiliations. He’s burned and branded with T1’s stamp, hot and searing on his skin. You can’t scrub scar tissue away so easily. 

Kwanghee asks if they want dinner since there’s no plans for the team tonight, and Hyeokgyu and Minseok both reply with an okay. After leaving the studio, Hyeokgyu slips them through security and into the player waiting rooms where the rest of DRX is packing up. Kwanghee waves them over, gently reminding Minseok that T1’s using waiting room 3 today. Minseok fidgets at his thumbs slightly. 

“Should I go say hi?” he asks, hesitantly. 

Kwanghee looks indignant, then his face softens. He must know how much courage it took for Minseok to even bring it up. Not seeing them in a while - and then seeing all four of them together, Minseok’s jumped from beginner missions to an expert challenge.

“Do you need someone to go with?” Kwanghee says, “me and Hyeokgyu can go with you. And if they say anything mean to you, we will beat them up.”

Hyeokgyu nods in affirmation, a look so serious plastered on his face that it makes Minseok laugh. 

“Don’t beat them up. I like them.”

“We know you do, Minseok,” Hyeokgyu says, in that soft, slow cadence he usually speaks with, “all the more we should care for your gentle heart.”

Minseok bites his lip.

“Both of you can wait outside. Sorry. If it goes badly, we’ll all run away together, okay?” Minseok says.

“Well, no, cuz if it goes badly we’ll-” Kwanghee starts, but is abruptly interrupted by Minseok.

“I said, don’t beat them up,” Minseok deadpans, swinging out of the door and walking straight towards waiting room 3. 

He’s always been this way - outwardly confident, but nothing more than a hollow shell on the inside. Empty vessels make the most noise - and he’s been shouting his whole life. But Minseok knows all too well that things do not come to you if you just pray for them, if you just stand still and wish upon falling stars. And frankly speaking, it’s been draining these past few years, painting over the cracked surfaces of his time on T1, wallpaper hastily slapped on already peeling from the corners.

He shoots a quick text at Wooje asking him if it’d be fine to drop by the T1 waiting room, and Wooje replies a quick yes!! come see us hyung!! followed by five consecutive stickers of a duck doing a loop de loop around a massive YAY! in jarringly bright and colourful letters. 

He treads carefully down the hallway. Kwanghee and Hyeokgyu peek out of waiting room 1, the other DRX members already filing out of the room to go their separate ways. He can hear casual conversation from outside the door, familiar voices buzzing together. 

wooje-ah. u sure the coast is clear? he quickly reconfirms, gripping his phone tightly. 

I can open the door for you if u want, Wooje types back.

nevermind. I’ll just knock. if minhyung kills me don’t report him to the police k, Minseok replies.

WTF hyung… Wooje replies.

Minseok takes one more quick glance down at his phone and gives two soft knocks on the waiting room door. The buzzing inside stops almost immediately. 

“Ah, Junyoung, I can get it-” Minseok hears Wooje say, but before he can react, the door’s pulled open.

“Oh. Hi, how can I help you?”

A semi-familiar face peers out of the crack of the door, before a fist slams down jokingly on the person’s head and he’s pushed aside, Wooje’s bright and sparkly eyes greeting Minseok instead. 

“Hyung! Come in!” Wooje says, grabbing Minseok by the arm and pulling him into the room. 

He turns his head towards the direction of waiting room 1 and sees Hyeokgyu making SOS signals with his hand and Kwanghee acting out a phone call and mouthing “CALL IF YOU NEED HELP”. He shakes his head in disbelief. It seems like the three of them will be idiots no matter how old they become, but Minseok likes it this way. He hopes the three of them can be idiots together forever. He shrugs and lets himself get pulled into the waiting room, his heart already long open to them. 

“Hi, how can I help you,” Wooje mimics, one hand on Minseok’s arm and the other dragging Junyoung by the ear, “Junyoung, you are in the presence of a legend! Have some decorum!”

“Ack! Sorry, sorry! But seriously, who’s this?” Junyoung complains, taking his first good look at Minseok.

Minseok pulls down his mask and smiles at him.

“Hi, Juniper. I’m Minseok.”

Junyoung stops in his tracks, his jaw dropped. The place goes silent, and Minseok gives a cursory glance at everyone in the room. Wooje and Junyoung next to him. The new midlaner and Hyunjoon looking at a VOD on the desks nearby. Sanghyeok, Kanghee and Jaehyeon grouped up against the window. 

Minhyung, sitting on the sofa by himself, phone long dropped to his lap, gnawing on his inner lip.

“Oh, Minseok-ah, you came, hi,” Hyunjoon waves from where he’s at, “did you enjoy the show?”

“You bullied those DRX rookies,” Minseok accuses, willing his voice not to shake, directing his vision towards Hyunjoon.

“That, too, is League,” Hyunjoon shrugs.

“Ah, hyung, come sit, come sit!” Wooje says, pushing him towards the sofa. 

Minseok finds himself unceremoniously plopped beside Minhyung. Every neuron in his brain is firing signals at him to run, but he’s frozen in place like a Sejuani R’s been thrown directly at him. 

Junyoung looks apologetic before him, twiddling his thumbs and giving Minseok a deep bow.

“So sorry Minseok-sunbae! I really didn’t realise who you were…” he says, sincerity clear in his voice. 

Minseok smiles at the poor support, and taps his arm twice.

“It’s ok. You can just call me hyung. I don’t work in this field anymore,” he reassures, “you played really good today, Juniper. Much better than me.” 

Minseok feels the leather crinkle under his palms. Minhyung’s knuckles are white from grabbing the edge of the seat, and out of habit, Minseok pats them gently.

Minhyung turns to him in surprise, and releases his hands quickly. 

“Minseok-ah, did you eat?” Sanghyeok says, breaking the brief tension between the two of them.

“Ah, not yet. I’ll go eat with Hyeokgyu-hyung and Kwanghee-hyung in a bit. I just wanted to drop by to say hi and congratulate you guys on the game.”

Minseok’s heart hurts so, so much. Nobody acts like anything’s different. It feels like he time travelled and just took a short four day vacation from that day in San Francisco, not the four years he’s spent toiling in front of computer screens and pulling all nighters in libraries. 

Wooje squeezes onto the sofa next to him and tells him animatedly about the game. He doesn’t let go of Minseok’s hands for even a single second. Minseok laughs and points out some things he noted while watching the game, and Wooje nods, taking his words in seriously as if it were actual feedback. 

“You should be our analyst,” Wooje grumbles, “we don’t have an analyst yet.”

“T1 can’t pay my salary,” Minseok jokes, even though he’s on the verge of breaking down, “I’m very expensive, Wooje.”

Wooje feigns a hurt expression on his face, but Minseok knows him well enough to know that there’s slight longing behind those playful eyes of his. 

“Ok. But you’ll give your free advice over Kakaotalk right?” Wooje asks. 

“Anytime you ask,” Minseok says, “but stick to office hours. I don’t run on a gamer sleep schedule anymore.”

“We’re old, who has the energy to sleep at 3am everyday?” Hyunjoon adds, “maybe not for the two young ones. But us geriatrics? We have to get our solid 8 hours of circadian rhythm REM sleep in.”

“I don’t think you know what half of those words mean, Hyunjoon,” Minseok laughs, “and you’re not old. We’re only twenty five. Our lives are just beginning.”

“Why, uni turn you into a philanthropist or something?” Hyunjoon bites back.

“You mean philosopher,” Sanghyeok corrects, a smile growing on his face. 

Hyunjoon rolls his eyes, but can’t fight his own smile back. Minseok feels like he’s nineteen and bickering with Hyunjoon and Wooje again. He feels like he’s nineteen and too scared to approach Sanghyeok for advice on playing support Ahri. He feels like he’s nineteen and jumping between playing bot with both Jinseong and Minhyung during scrims, his brain crammed with so many bot match-ups he could recite them like a mantra. 

He feels like he’s nineteen and in love with Minhyung again.

Maybe that’s the worst part. 

“No,” Minseok says, a little quieter, “I guess I just realised that my life didn’t end the day I left. I’m always rooting for this team, though.”

Minseok stands up, and he feels Minhyung’s gaze burn on his skin. He’s been next to him the whole time, silent, not butting into any conversation. Minseok turns to both Juniper and Jangmi, and gives them a thumbs up. 

“Fighting. You guys are super good. Don’t worry,” he tells them, before turning to the rest, “I gotta go for dinner now. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get any more tickets but I’ll watch them online, okay? I just came back from Busan so I’m still a little unfamiliar with Seoul, but I’ll keep in touch this time, I promise.”

Minhyung sighs, and stands up too.

“I’ll walk you out.”

Minseok’s breath catches, and he turns to Minhyung, who’s already started walking towards the door. He waves to all the coaching staff and the remaining players, then quickens his pace to match Minhyung’s. 

When Minhyung opens the door out to the corridor, it’s empty. Minseok is sure Kwanghee and Hyeokgyu retreated back into the waiting room, and everyone else had gone home. Minseok turns around, preparing to thank Minhyung, but he sees Minhyung close the door behind them, leaving the two of them in the corridor alone.

“Minseok-ah, do you hate me that much?”

Minseok stills. He can do a lot of things, but one thing he’ll never be able to do is hate Lee Minhyung.

“What?” he spits out, almost incredulously.

“You won’t even look at me.”

Minseok realises rather belatedly that he’s currently staring at the wall ahead of him. He snaps his focus back onto Minhyung, and god, he looks so tired.

“Minhyung, no, never, please,” Minseok begs, and his heart is so full of words he can’t say he feels like he’s going to explode, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Sanghyeok-hyung gave me your number. I’ll text you. We can go eat something you like. We can talk then. I promise.”

“You talked to all of them before you talked to me,” Minhyung says weakly, “am I supposed to think otherwise?”

It’s because I love you so much and I’m so sorry for our past that I can’t face you.

“It was just a coincidence,” Minseok says, “because I happened to move in next to Wooje and Hyunjoon.”

Minhyung exhales and runs a hand through his hair. 

“Okay. You’ll text me, and we can go get dinner,” he repeats, like the words are going to slip away from him at any time. 

Sometimes Minhyung’s so stupid Minseok wants to hit him over the head with a sledgehammer. But Minseok can’t blame him, since he was the one who disappeared without a trace. Minseok pulls his phone out, hastily scrolling up to Sanghyeok’s chat where Minhyung’s number stares back at him. 

hi this is minseok. dinner any day is fine with me. no more ramen. choose your favourite restaurant, he types out quickly. 

He shoves his phone in Minhyung’s face. Feels a rush of confidence faced with Minhyung’s entire being before him. 

“Here. Let me know. You played great today,” Minseok says, “and your Jinx skin’s even prettier on the big stage.”

“So are you,” Minhyung replies. 

Minseok blinks. Once, twice. 

“That’s-” 

“I’m sorry,” Minhyung rushes out, “just forget it.”

Minseok laughs.

“You’re really funny, Minhyung,” Minseok says, “do you like me or not? I can’t tell anymore.”

Minhyung opens his mouth to reply, but Minseok dismisses him with a wave.

“See you around. I don’t need the answer to that question now.”

He turns away from Minhyung, striding quickly back to the DRX waiting room. He must be crazy. He must have lost his mind. But in front of Lee Minhyung, how can he think of anything else? 

Hyeokgyu and Kwanghee wait expectantly inside, rushing towards him once he pushes the door open.

“How was it? How did it go?” Kwanghee says, brows furrowed up in concern. 

“I asked Minhyung if he liked me or not. Then I ran away,” Minseok trails off. 

“What the actual fuck happened to saying hello, Minseok?” Kwanghee asks, in disbelief. 

Minseok’s phone screen lights up with a notification.

Monday 6pm? I’ll pick you up at the T1 building.

see you, Minseok types out. 

“And I’m eating dinner with him on Monday,” Minseok says. 

Kwanghee looks a little green. Hyeokgyu’s blank expression remains unchanged, but if Minseok squints, there’s the faintest furrowing of his brow on his face. 

“Well. Let’s go eat first. Think later,” Hyeokgyu says, picking up his bag from the sofa and pushing the door open. 

The three of them stop at a western restaurant and bar, and it’s semi-empty save for a couple of meandering stragglers. They put their orders in quickly and Kwanghee pushes the menu aside, folding arms on the table.

“So. What happened?” he asks.

Minseok recounts the whole situation for the two of them. From Minhyung asking if Minseok hated him, to the Jinx skin, to calling him pretty and the question at the end. Saying it out loud makes it sound even more ridiculous, and he kind of wants to dig a hole into the ground and bury himself alive right now. 

“I cannot believe I said all that. I must have been possessed. Again! I’m always possessed whenever I’m around Minhyung, I can’t keep my mouth shut, I can’t control my feelings for him, and I can’t stop thinking about how fucking handsome he is!” Minseok grits out in annoyance.

Hyeokgyu takes a sip of water slowly.

“He called you pretty too, you know,” he points out.

“What if he was just saying that because you know, he misses me on the stage,” Minseok says.

“Minseok, you need food. Your brain is not really working at its maximum capacity,” Hyeokgyu says.

Kwanghee nods seriously.

“Agree.”

The food comes, Minseok eats, and he still comes to the same conclusion.

“Maybe he’s just saying that to be nice, even though I’ve been nothing but horrible to him. Because it’s embarrassing if a fight breaks out in the backrooms of Lol Park, right?” Minseok says.

“Minseok, why is believing he still likes you back such a crazy thought that you have to jump through fifty hoops to convince yourself he hates you?” Kwanghee asks, spearing a piece of steak off his plate. 

“He asked me if I hated him first,” Minseok says, feeling a little attacked. 

“I mean. You won’t look at him. Won’t contact him. You also did talk to all the other T1 members before you even spoke to him,” Kwanghee lists, “I can’t blame him for thinking that, you know.”

“It’s just really hard to exist in the same space as him right now. It always is. I can’t talk to him. I just can’t. I missed my chance all those years ago and I’m serving my punishment now,” Minseok replies. 

“You’re meeting him on Monday, no?” Hyeokgyu asks, “talk to him. Clear everything up. Even if the outcome isn’t ideal, I think you owe him that much. And seriously, Minseok-ah, this punishment you keep talking about - it doesn’t exist. You make decisions and you live with them. There are consequences, but trapping yourself to a sentence that doesn’t exist isn’t good for you. Let go. I think you and Minhyung are both well-accustomed adults that can talk things out normally.”

“Ya, he’s good at giving advice,” Kwanghee comments, pointing his fork at Hyeokgyu, “listen to him. And you know, we’re not asking you to date him immediately or anything crazy like that! Just explain yourself a little. At the end of the day, regardless of any personal feelings, he was still your friend, and he can still be your friend.”

Minseok looks at his half-eaten plate of pesto pasta.

“I’m just so frustrated by myself that I don’t believe in that. It’s so hard to bring myself to think about the possibility of him forgiving me because I’m so sorry,” he whispers, “I’m so sorry that it hurts me everytime I see him. It hurts but I love him. It hurts but I still want him.”

Hyeokgyu sighs, putting both his utensils down.

“You have our support. Start slow, start friends. Anything else that happens afterwards, just let it be,” Hyeokgyu says, “don’t think too much, Minseok-ah. One step at a time.”

Minseok looks up from his plate and sees the determined looks on Hyeokgyu’s and Kwanghee’s faces.

Whatever they say goes, right? Minseok is loved regardless of where he goes. How many years he’s put his trust into his two older brothers - what’s one more? 

He doesn’t like to admit it out loud because Kwanghee likes to gloat, but he’d be nowhere without the two of them. In his initial years as a budding pro-gamer, now transitioning into his quarter-life climbing the corporate tech ladder, they’ve been through thick and thin with him. Even now, when he feels annoying and imposing, they spoil him with their patience and their time, slowly putting back the pieces of himself when he was still able to live unburdened by adult problems. 

His biggest worry back then was if he had enough money saved up to buy the Prestige Academia Lux skin, and if DRX would promote him to the main roster. 

Everything seems so silly after time passes. Of course DRX wouldn’t leave their genius support behind, and he’d diligently saved up for the Lux skin so he’d be able to buy it easily. Did the Minseok back then know that he’d be on T1? And that he’d leave the team and career he dreamt of for so long to pursue his studies? He wonders if he will ever be able to look back on those four years and thank himself for all the effort he put into surviving by himself. 

Maybe he can start. 

“Okay, okay. Slowly but surely,” Minseok replies, and he really believes it this time. 

-

Minseok flies through his tasks at work and packs up at a rapid speed on Monday, leaving his seat as 6pm strikes exactly. Manager Moon nods in surprise, giving him a thumbs up as he sees Minseok haul his work bag over his shoulder.

“Wow, Minseok, so glad to see you finally started enjoying life like the rest of us!” he cheers, “time for me to go back too. See you tomorrow!” 

Minseok gives him a bright smile, saying goodbye and taking the lift to the first floor. He steps outside the office building, the sky transitioning from light blue to an orangey-indigo.

His phone buzzes with a notification, and his hands shoot out to unlock his phone to read the message.

I’m at the underground garage. I don’t think they removed your fingerprint, but if you need me just give me a call, Minhyung says. 

sounds like a security issue that needs fixing, Minseok types back, walking briskly towards the hidden entrance near the T1 building. 

Minseok sighs. He really isn’t sure what he got himself into, and he hasn’t planned what to say at all. He’d apologise for fifty hours straight if Minhyung let him, but he knows Minhyung well enough to guarantee that he’d never let him do that. What even is there to talk about?

I’m sorry for leaving? How many times has he already said sorry to his old teammates? And what would an apology do for Minhyung? 

He steps in front of the gate, tries his fingerprint, and is surprised when the lock whirrs and displays a Welcome, Ryu Minseok.  

“What the heck,” he mumbles to himself while stepping through, “this is clearly a liability.”

“T1 doesn’t just dump you on its doorstep just because you leave, you know,” Minseok hears someone say, and he jumps in surprise. 

“And relax. I’m not going to kill you,” Minhyung says, giving him a pointed look.

Minseok’s going to kill Wooje.

“Well. I wasn’t scared of that,” Minseok rebukes, “you’re just standing to the side like a shady person.”

“Am I shady?” Minhyung asks, raising an eyebrow up.

“Maybe you are,” Minseok answers. 

Minhyung leads the two of them to a white car. He unlocks the car and pulls the door of the passenger side open for Minseok, who slides into the seat easily. The car smells like Minhyung. A little caramelly with warm sandalwood, Minseok sinks into the soft leather seats with a defeated sigh. 

They don’t really talk for a majority of the drive. Minhyung tells him that he’ll drive them to a Japanese restaurant, and Minseok double checks that Minhyung actually likes the food before giving the place the green light. Minseok’s a little sleepy from the working day, and he’s been so high-strung the whole afternoon that he wore himself out. He dozes off halfway, slowly shaken awake by Minhyung when they reach their destination. 

The restaurant’s really fancy. An elegant gate made out of bamboo greets them, and they have to walk on a stone pavement through a delicate Japanese-themed garden to reach the place.  Inside, a waitress gets Minhyung’s name and takes the two of them up to a private dining room, passing over the menus before sliding the door shut. 

“You had a reservation?” Minseok says, breaking the silence between the two. 

Minhyung nods.

“It’s hard to eat here without one,” he explains, “order whatever you want. It’s on me, so don’t worry too much.”

Minseok’s eyes threaten to pop out of their sockets when he sees the numbers besides pictures of intricately plated sushi. He doesn’t earn a bad salary at his company, but he doesn’t make this much money. He flips through the menu, trying to find the cheapest item, and lands on an oyakodon. He spins the menu around for Minhyung to see, pointing to it. 

“I want this one,” Minseok says. 

Minhyung’s eyes soften, and he shakes his head.

“You don’t really like oyakodon, Minseok. Don’t worry about the price, really. We can share a sushi platter, you like otoro, right?” Minhyung asks.

“No, please, I-I like oyakodon now,” Minseok insists. 

Minseok thinks that Minhyung must either be crazy, or the restaurant must have mistyped a decimal point when doing up the menu. 

Minhyung sighs. 

“You’re still bad at lying, Minseok,” he says with finality, snapping the menu shut, “we’ll order the sashimi platter and a few sides to share.”

He sticks his head out of their room and flags down a waiter, and points at a few things on the menu.

“I want the agedashi tofu too,” Minseok adds meekly, and the waiter nods, writing it down on his notepad. 

The waiter repeats their order, and promptly leaves them alone in the room again. The two of them just look at each other for a while. Minhyung looks the same, but to be fair, Minseok did just see him two days ago. It wasn’t like they were long lost star crossed lovers or anything. They were just teammates on the same team, once upon a time. 

Minhyung speaks first. 

“So how’ve you been recently?” he asks. 

“Good. Work is fine. Not so stressful. I need to get used to Seoul again - but I guess anyone would after taking such a long break from living here,” Minseok answers, simply, “how’s everything for you?”

He’s terrified, but he forces himself to enunciate each word carefully. He hates how cordial he has to be, unable to speak comfortably. Minhyung isn’t holding him at gunpoint. He’s here voluntarily because he loves Minhyung and wants, even if it’s just a little bit, to be back in his life. 

It’s difficult, but when has anything good come easy? 

“It’s been good,” Minhyung says, “but I think you know that already, don’t you?”

Minseok blinks. He doesn’t know what else to say to Minhyung, rapidly firing blanks in his empty brain.

“Uhm, I guess,” Minseok mumbles, tipping his cup of green tea into his mouth.

The waiter comes promptly with their order, and Minhyung motions for him to eat, picking up his own chopsticks and putting a piece of the fatty tuna on Minseok’s plate.

“You eat. You like otoro too, Minhyung,” Minseok insists, pushing Minhyung’s chopsticks away with his own.

They fall into a comfortable silence - punctuated by chewing and Minseok saying everything tastes good. Minhyung looks happy enough digging into his kaisendon, so Minseok supposes he really was telling the truth about this being his favourite restaurant. But Minseok knows that if he doesn’t open his mouth to start the difficult conversation within the next ten minutes, he’s never going to open his mouth again, and the both of them are going to become nothing more than two in-game friends sharing a meal and calling it a day. 

“Listen, Minhyung,” he says, putting down his chopsticks with an awkward clatter, “I’m sorry.” 

Start with an apology. That’s all Minseok knows to do, start with an apology and run from there. But god knows where the finish line is when it comes to Minhyung. Minhyung has an unreadable expression on his face, and he also puts down his spoon. 

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Minhyung says, “I should be the one apologising.”

“No! I mean, listen, Minhyung. I never would have stayed. I’m sorry. I know you hate hearing it again and again, but I left so the team could get better. Because I wasn’t getting any better, and you were growing so much and so fast that sooner or later, you’d hit an unshatterable breakpoint with me,” Minseok explains quickly.

“You already told me all this already. Why again? Do you think it would make me feel any better?” Minhyung laughs in disbelief.

“No. I’m just explaining myself because I didn’t back then, and because I think you deserved to hear it. I just ran away because I thought it’d get better, but it didn’t. It ripped me apart so many times I can’t even count how many times my heart got broken. It was in the middle of Summer. I think it was a balmy day, and we were playing Blitz-Kalista. We lost,” Minseok says with a slight hazy smile, “and losing doesn’t scare me, Minhyung. But after that game, I thought, ah, it’s okay, we lost. And there wasn’t anything after that. There wasn’t any thought of okay, I’ll win the next one. Just plain acceptance of the loss, like I had known all my life I was going to lose that one.” 

“We all have to accept losses. How will we move on if we keep staying trapped in our previous losses?” Minhyung argues back. 

“I wasn’t trapped, Minhyung. I just stopped wanting to move on. My desire to win wasn’t getting any stronger. My natural acceptance of losing was growing and eating me alive. When it was bad, it was pretty bad. I felt like I was never going to be good ever again, I was never going to make a single play again, and that losing was probably the outcome I was meant for. It scared me so much because I didn’t think you deserved to play with someone like that. You want to win so badly all the time. You’re passionate about the things you love, and you’re filled with so much confidence it makes me want to slap you sometimes,” Minseok jokes, “but that’s why I liked you so much back then, so much that I just took a step back. You wanted to help me, but I wasn’t able to be helped in a month, in a year. Even in several years, actually. I still struggle with thinking about those times even today.”

“Minseok-” Minhyung starts, but Minseok shakes his head, continuing to let his thoughts rain out of his mouth. 

“You know, I’m not sorry for leaving my career behind, because I would have done it sooner or later. But I think at that point of time, I was so wrecked emotionally that I just didn’t have the headspace to talk to you properly before I left Seoul. I was so tired that I thought I would snap and make everything even worse, but I regret it more than anything now,” Minseok admits.

Minhyung looks conflicted. Minseok doesn’t know if he got all the words he wanted out, but if even just a bit of his broken heart could have been understood by Minhyung, it was enough for him. Minhyung waits a while before choosing his next words carefully. 

“I knew that already. But I just wasn’t prepared to accept it. I wasn’t ready to blame no one for you leaving, so I guess I just dumped it on myself. I don’t have the healthiest of coping mechanisms either. I’m sure you’ve scolded me many times for running it down solo queuing…” Minhyung trails off, looking a little sheepish, “I don’t really know what to say to you either, Minseok. The last thing I told you was that I, um, liked you, and then we ended up like this. I think it was after we met in the ramen shop? I just couldn’t control my emotions properly and lashed out, and I was so angry at myself that I just kinda lost it and ran it down that night. I’m not like, a wonderful human being or anything. I’m really sorry for that, too.”

“Who’s perfect?” Minseok laughs, tears filling his eyes up, “I fucked my life up too.”

“No, I won’t let you say that about yourself. You did well, Minseok. Give yourself a bit of credit,” Minhyung says, “I think you’re incredible.”

Of course Minhyung would say that. Minhyung would support him with the whole world if it had been possible. Minseok feels so undeserving of this love that he doesn’t know how he can repay him for it. But like a moth to a flame, Minseok forever wants to bask in Minhyung’s warmth.

“Minhyung-ah. Do you still like me?” Minseok says.

“What do you think?” Minhyung asks, kindly. 

The low Japanese lamp over their heads bathes him in warm, glowing light. Minseok’s always thought Minhyung looked the most beautiful like this, a simple expression on his face and his bangs framing his face softly. 

“What I think, player Gumayusi, is that you shine the brightest in the world,” Minseok replies simply, picking his spoon up again and digging into his agedashi tofu. 

Minhyung laughs, picking up his chopsticks as well.

“Is that so?” he asks, “okay then, Minseok. Let’s have a good meal.”

Minseok knows that there are many more unspoken words to be said between the two of them. He knows that there are still many more things to learn about each other, and to fill in what the four years left empty. 

But today, he thinks that this is just right. 

-

Minseok’s work picks up quickly after that day. They have a crunch period at work, but Manager Moon still insists they all leave before eight so the team still gets a good amount of rest everyday. Weeks pass, and he’s settling in Seoul nicely. Wooje and Hyunjoon teach him about all the good restaurants near where they stay, he shares some delivery costs with the two of them, and Minhyung- 

It’s complicated. 

Currently, he sits opposite Minhyung, two steaming bowls of noodles between the two of them. 

“You know, you took the shocking news of me moving back here way too well,” Minseok says suspiciously.

“I already knew you were coming here. I looked you up on Linkedin because I was so scared you were going overseas,” Minhyung admits, “Korea’s big, but a train ride’s nothing compared to somewhere like Europe .”

“I wasn’t going to Europe!” Minseok laughs, “and you were stalking my Linkedin, hmm? ”

“You’re so exceptional that I thought a big company would snatch you up. I was so relieved when there was no news of you migrating, and even more relieved when you moved to Seoul,” Minhyung replies.

“I’m not that good,” Minseok says, “I just tried my best.”

“Okay, Mr. First-class Honours,” Minhyung jokes.

“Ya, Lee Minhyung, stop googling me!” Minseok complains.

They’re having dinner. One of the many regular dinners they ended up having after that day. Minseok knows some wounds are too deep to heal, but he likes to think that even large, gushing wounds scab over given enough time. They’re weirdly in between worlds right now, their relationship neither here nor there, Minhyung too respectful and Minseok too afraid of hurting him again. 

Four years is a really long time, but like Hyeokgyu said, start slow, start friends. Minseok enjoys Minhyung’s company, he always has. He had been scared that everything would have been far too awkward after they each said their pieces, but the world didn’t end, and Minhyung’s still by his side. They still don’t talk too much about League - just quick one-liners from Minseok if Minhyung had a game recently. 

Minseok learns a few things in the past weeks. 

One, that Minhyung has surprisingly good taste in restaurants. Two, that Minseok likes Minhyung way too much, so much so that he feels like a white dwarf with an imminent runaway nuclear fusion reaction.

It’s humiliating. He knows that Minhyung is waiting for him, and he knows that Minhyung would have waited another four hundred if Minseok so wished for it. But it’s not fair for Minhyung to make him wait this long, and neither is it fair for himself. Minseok isn’t someone that walks along the sun-filled cracks of pavement, but he hopes that at the very least, he can be someone that can enjoy the warmth Minhyung exudes.

“You know, would you have come to find me in Busan if I didn’t come back by the time I graduated?” he asks suddenly.

“I’d go to Busan, sure. But don’t know if I’d come to find you. I’d wait for you to come back, and if you didn’t I’d- I don’t know,” Minhyung says, truthfully, “I kind of just hoped you’d come back.”

“You stupid man,” Minseok says, but there’s no bite, “don’t wait for someone useless like me.”

“Don’t say that about yourself,” Minhyung says, and he actually looks upset. 

“Alright, alright,” Minseok assuages, “don’t worry. If I run away again this time I’ll really give you the right to kidnap me.”

“Minseok!” Minhyung exclaims, and Minseok laughs, and oh god, he loves this boy so much. 

They finish up their meal, and Minhyung drives him home, like he always does. But when Minhyung pulls into his apartment complex, instead of stopping at the drop off point, he turns into the parking lot and stops the car. 

“Minhyung-” Minseok asks, but Minhyung starts rummaging in his bag for something before handing it over to Minseok. 

2027 LCK Finals 4.25

Minseok stares open-mouthed at the ticket, but Minhyung presses it into his hands. 

“Minseok. We should talk after the finals,” Minhyung says, conviction thick in his voice, “so will you come see me win?”

He says it like he believes it, and Minseok believes it too.

“I’ll come,” Minseok promises.

-

Hyeokgyu invites Minseok and Kwanghee to his house the next day, a day before the Spring final. The telecom wars have finally been reignited on the biggest possible regional stage, an upcoming T1 vs KT beatdown guaranteed with KT’s win over HLE that day. KT gave their players the evening off, and as the three of them hadn’t seen each other in a while due to the season ramping up to a close, Hyeokgyu thought it was a good time for a get-together.

There’s no alcohol on the table today since the finals are the day after, so Hyeokgyu brings out the grape juice and pours a glass for each of them.

“I got tickets for the two of you,” Hyeokgyu says, pulling out two tickets. 

Kwanghee picks one up and thanks Hyeokgyu, before nudging Minseok and encouraging him to take the other. 

“Yo, your situationship is playing,” he gently reminds him, “don’t tell me your company’s making you work on a Sunday.”

Minseok’s eyes dart around nervously, and pushes the ticket back from Hyeokgyu.

“Er, my situationship gave me a ticket yesterday.”

Kwanghee almost spits his grape juice straight onto Minseok’s face.

“My kid’s all growing up now…” he says sadly, shaking his head.

Kwanghee’s shedding fake tears while Hyeokgyu looks at him judgmentally. Minseok laughs at Kwanghee, and he realises he’s been doing a lot of laughing recently. He supposes this is the aftermath of the effort he put into making this his best life. 

“But you know, I’m rooting for KT,” Minseok whispers across the table, and Hyeokgyu swipes his hair briefly. 

“Yeah, right,” Hyeokgyu says, in complete disbelief, “we don’t win against Minhyung after all, huh?”

“What are you saying? You two first. Then Minhyung. Always,” Minseok promises.

“Deft or Gumayusi,” Kwanghee deadpans, squinting his eyes in suspicion.

“Gumayusi,” Minseok answers, quickly and shamelessly. 

Kwanghee rolls his eyes in fond annoyance. 

-

During the LCK finals, the arena feels like it’s been lit ablaze by the fans of both sides. It’s his first time going to such a big event alone since Worlds in 2023, and the atmosphere is so intense it feels like he’s drowning in it. It’s noisy, especially in the T1 side of the arena where Minseok’s seated by himself, mask on and cap fitted firmly on his head. 

His sign reads #T1win, Gumayusi fighting! , a small drawing of a bear and a maltese beside his words. He’s not very good at drawing so they turn out like sad little blobs, but he supposes it’s the thought that counts. He snaps a quick picture and sends it over to Minhyung, alongside the caption, good luck for today. don’t lose.

I won’t, Minhyung replies back almost immediately, I can’t lose with my biggest lucky charm in the building. 

Minseok splutters in embarrassment, quickly switching over to the 7th floor supper trio group chat. 

T1 fighting !!!!! I came today to cheer you guys on :>, he types.

did u come to cheer us or minhyung-hyung on…. letting yall reunite was a mistake now all he does is steal you away from me :(, Wooje replies.

I love you wooje, Minseok types out, sending a maltese kissing sticker into the chat.

Hey….. ya…, Hyunjoon says, and Minseok laughs. 

Things change, but even after all this time, Hyunjoon’s still horribly possessive over Wooje.  

Hope u r having a shit time in the T1 box without me :/ , comes a sudden notification from Kwanghee.

HYEOKGYU HYUNG FIGHTING!!!!!! the stars were just not aligned if it were any other team you know I’d be right there with you kwanghee hyung…. Minseok replies.

:/ Unforseen consequences of happy wife happy life…ur poor friends getting abandoned, Kwanghee chides.

His friends are being ridiculous, and he loves them so much.

The final walk outs are always a grand affair. The large LED screen in the middle of the arena flash portraits of players in the order of walk out, and red and gold flags raise in choreographed synchronicity for T1, the defending Spring champions from last year. On the other side, red and black banners are lifted by dancers, flanking the KT players as they march up to the player seats. 

The whole arena’s an assortment of red and black thanks to the similar team colours of KT and T1, and it almost looks like both sides could melt into one red blur if he squinted enough. 

They get into pick-ban fairly quickly, and when it comes to Minhyung’s turn, he hovers Lux briefly, and quickly switches to lock in Draven to round out the bot lane with the team’s previous Renata pick. 

“Ah, Gumayusi hovered Lux - maybe he wants the lady of luminosity to shine upon T1 today!” the casters comment.

For the rest of the banpick, Minhyung continues to hover Lux before he locks in his pick.

It makes Minseok smile so much he thinks he must be poisoned by Minhyung. 

KT doesn’t go down without a fight, but T1 beats them in a roughhouse 3-1 fashion. When KT’s nexus explodes for the third time, Minseok jumps to his feet, cheering alongside his section that has erupted into rambunctious celebration. T1 wins their V14, and he sees the staff clamour onstage to celebrate amongst the players. 

Confetti rains down on the area, and the MVP is unanimously decided to be Minhyung, with his KDA of 14 and his carry performances on Draven and Jinx. When he gets the MVP ring, the announcer, Yoon Subin, just asks him a single question. 

“Gumayusi-nim, you said in an interview that you dreamed of winning the Spring MVP award weeks ago. How does it feel for your prophecy to come true?” she asks.

“I think my dreams could only take me so far. I’d be nowhere without my teammates, since we take turns to carry. I just got lucky today. I just think that it’s very hard to lose with Lux-nim shining down on me,” he says. 

“Ah, I’ll try that trick next time in my solo queue game,” Subin jokes, “thank you so much, Gumayusi. Congratulations T1, and good luck in MSI to both teams! Thank you for watching the LCK in spring everyone! Let’s meet healthily in summer!”

KT and T1 are both doing team dinners today, so Kwanghee asks if he’d like to eat with him after the event. Though he’d have loved to stay for dinner with Kwanghee, the events of the day tire Minseok out more than he thought it would, and he sends a quick apology to Kwanghee before calling a taxi home. He gets takeout tteokbokki, changes out into something more comfortable and collapses on his couch, sighing heavily. 

congratulations, minhyung, he types out, then tosses his phone onto the other side of the room.

He’s getting older, he thinks. Once an environment that he craved for, it sucks all the energy out of him and he scrunches his face up to release the tension. Everything’s so loud, the plays are so fast, and his heart beats so fast that it scares him. 

But he doesn’t crave it anymore. 

You can grow into a life, and you can grow out of one, too. He must have been so hung up by his past that he refused to uproot, let his branches crawl out of the too-small pot, thinking that he would have to forget everything to start at zero again. But today, he didn't miss League. He didn’t think about being Juniper, he didn’t think about playing alongside Minhyung, he just let himself enjoy the game and relive the thrill of being a fan that he missed out on.

He still has small, passing twinges of desire, because nobody changes overnight. But all the progress he’s made, all the love that he has for the family that never left him behind, it lets him become a person he thinks he’s finally marginally happy with, living a life he can enjoy. 

After a period of relatively quiet pondering and some gentle shut-eye, there’s noisy knocking on his door. He assumes it’s his tteokbokki, so he gets up, opening the door abruptly. 

Wooje falls straight through and grabs onto his legs, starting to cry. 

“Hyung, did you see us win our V14?” he wails.

God. Minseok forgot that Wooje was a crybaby drunk. And an extreme lightweight. Minseok spies a plastic carton on the floor next to the door, which he assumes is his tteokbokki. 

“Wooje-ah, you’re heavy. And you smell like soju. Where’s Hyunjoonie?” Minseok sighs, bending down to pick up his tteokbokki, “yes, I saw you win. Your Gnar was very good. You did well, Wooje.”

“Yay,” Wooje cheers, giving Minseok a big smile.

Minseok doesn’t let how cute Wooje’s currently being distract him from the fact that he’s quite literally lying on his doorstep, his arms wrapped tightly around Minseok’s shins. He sticks his head outside his door, and is met face to face with Hyunjoon running out of the apartment next to his.

“Hyunjoon. Please pick your boyfriend up from my doorstep,” he asks, “by the way, congrats on the win today. But that was a quick celebration, I didn’t know you guys were home so fast.”

Hyunjoon has a soft expression on his face as he picks Wooje up like a plushy in a little crane machine.

“The afterparties are usually held at our house,” Hyunjoon explains, “Wooje must have felt a little too pleased about winning today and took a shot. I swear the memory loss that hits makes him do this every time. Sorry about that.”

“You’re taking me away from Minseok-hyung? Again? No, I cannot be apart from Minseok-hyung again, you’re such a bad guy! Put me down, I want to be with Minseok-hyung!” Wooje cries, struggling in Hyunjoon’s firm hold.

“Wooje-ah. Minseok will be here tomorrow, but we might not if you get us a noise complaint with your yelling,” Hyunjoon says gently to him, swinging him the other way and into his apartment. 

Minseok stares at the spectacle before him before waving bye meekly and sending another bout of congratulations through the open door. He brings the tteokbokki in and prepares to close his own door when someone pulls it open slightly from the other side.       

Minseok lets the door swing free on his end, and Minhyung’s face appears once the door is reopened again. 

“Hey. Congrats on winning MVP, Minhyung,” Minseok breathes out.

Minhyung has his semi-long hair pushed up, lightly curled bangs falling perfectly in place on either side of his face. He’s wearing a casual grey shirt, wearing sweatpants that Minseok is fifty percent sure belong to Hyunjoon, and he doesn’t think he’s ever looked more ravishing. 

“Can I come in?” Minhyung asks, peering around curiously.

Minseok snaps to attention, quickly putting the tteokbokki down on his coffee table and wiping his sweaty palms down on his shorts. 

“Sure. Just. Close the door after you and sit anywhere you want,” Minseok says, plopping down on the sofa, “sorry it’s a bit bare, but it’s just enough for me.”

Minhyung decides to sit right next to Minseok on the sofa though he has small chairs littered all over the place.

“You can eat first if you’re hungry,” Minhyung says, bending over and peeling the top of the food container off for Minseok, taking care not to let the condensation drip onto the coffee table. 

“It’s okay I’m not that…hungry,” Minseok says.

His heart’s dropped into his stomach - how can he be hungry when Minhyung’s in front of him? How many things he wants to tell Minhyung, he will never know. He wants to share a life with him. That is what comes to mind once Minhyung walks through his front door, and he thinks this view isn’t too bad for the rest of his life. 

“So, you just came to, see my apartment?” he continues. 

Minhyung chuckles, and gives Minseok an affectionate look. 

“No. I came to give you this,” Minhyung says, and pulls out a ring box from his pocket. 

Minseok’s world begins to swirl around him. He pushes it back, and slaps Minhyung’s hand quickly. 

“How can you give away something so precious? I know that’s your MVP ring, Minhyung, you worked so hard for it, don’t give it away willy-nilly,” he nags. 

“What do you mean willy-nilly, I gave it a lot of thought-” Minhyung whines, but Minseok quickly shushes him.

“Ah, you’re so annoying, just tell me you like me normally, Lee Minhyung! I will always welcome your affection,” Minseok interjects, “I don’t need a ring. I don’t need any fancy things, I don’t need expensive sashimi dinners. I just want you. I’m sorry I was too stupid to believe in us back then, Minhyung, but I want it all now. If you still forgive me, if you still love me, I want you in my life forever. You make me happy and you make me feel free. You’re the best person in my life, Minhyung, and I cannot lose you again.”

He looks up from his impassioned rant and into Minhyung’s red-tinged eyes. 

“You know, I liked you so much that when you left, I kind of just. Lost it? It’s okay, I know you heard the gist of it from Wooje. I’m okay with you knowing that. I know they say it’s not good to rely on someone so much. I thought my world was crumbling down. It’s kind of ridiculous to think about right now, but I had to go through some. Emotional regulating classes. It helped a lot. I think I had to learn to live well without you so I could live better with you,” Minhyung confesses, “so if you’ll have me, I’ll promise to never make you sad, and I’ll eat Haidilao with you as many times as you want. I’ll carry you to master-” 

Minseok bursts out laughing at that statement, dissolving into a giggly puddle on Minhyung’s lap.

“Minhyungie, I’m a self-made Challenger!” he says, “you doubt the Legendary Genius Monster’s ability to climb? I just need a boyfriend that calls me pretty twice a day and lives each day with vigour and loves me with all he has.”

Minhyung ruffles his hair.

“I’ll even call you pretty three times a day,” he promises.

“Romantic! This date thing is already going pretty well,” Minseok praises, “I love you, Minhyung. That’s all that there is. And I’m finally ready to date you. I’ll give all of me to you, so you just need to love me the most in the world, okay?” 

“You’ve been pretty since your DRX days. You’re magnetic. I’m so happy right now I don’t even know what to say,” Minhyung stutters, burning his face in his hands.

“Aww, you liked me that much back then?” Minseok asks jokingly, getting up from his position on Minhyung’s lap to cradle Minhyung’s face with his hands gingerly.

“Minseok, I wanted to date you since you were in DRX,” Minhyung admits, reaching up to hold Minseok’s hands in his. 

“You know, I wanted to date you since I was in DRX, too,” Minseok whispers conspiratorially, “I really liked you a lot that time.”

“What about now?” Minhyung asks, a cheeky glint in his eyes.

Minseok smiles widely.

“Of course, Minhyung. Now more than ever, forever more than now,” Minseok answers, and pulls him in for a kiss. 

-

8 Months Later.

By The Seaside blares from a phone, reverberating through the silent room. The sheets shift slightly, an arm peeking out from the covers, fumbling for the location of the darned phone making that grating noise.

After a short scuffle, the phone drops to the floor with a clatter. 

“Minhyung…” Minseok pleads, “turn it off.”

“It’s your phone,” Minhyung rebukes, morning voice scratchy from disuse. 

“I don’t wanna get up, please…” Minseok trails off, going back under the covers.

Minhyung sighs, pushes the covers off from himself and puts his feet onto the cold wooden floors. A few casual swipes of his hand underneath the bed helps him find Minseok’s phone, and he drags it off the floor, dropping it on the bed with a gentle toss.

“Do you want to eat dinner together later? Your pick,” Minhyung says.

Minseok makes a whiny sound from beneath the covers, then exhales.

“Eh, sure. Okay, okay. I’ll think of something. I’m gonna go get ready for work now. See you later. I love you.”

“I love you too. And don’t forget to eat lunch,” Minhyung chides, picking up Minseok’s frames from his bedside table and placing them gently onto his face.

Minseok scrunches his nose up in thanks, peppering a kiss onto Minhyung’s cheek. 

“You think they’ll let me eat at T1 Bap later?” Minseok asks, kicking the sheets off his body.

“Why not? You’re family, after all,” Minhyung explains.

Minseok laughs, soft and free, skipping away to the bathroom. 

“I guess I am.”