Quivering - locus_coeruleus - SEVENTEEN (Band) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

NINE.

“A tad bit downward would have done it,” Jun frowned as he observed the arrow landing just a few millimetres away from the line which divides the golden concentric circles.

To the average reasonable viewer, it seems like a sound, even a solid shot. To someone like Jun, it could prove to be a major flaw — something that could stop one from entirely reaching their dreams. Something that could set the internet ablaze and for people to act as if they know the ins and outs of the sport better than everyone else.

“That’s amazing! His sixth nine in a row!” Soonyoung clapped in awe. He gave a small nudge to Jun beside him who was busy peering through his binoculars. “They say it’s more difficult to get into the Korean national team than to win medals in the Olympics.”

“So I’ve heard,” Jun responded. He gave a small, almost unrecognisable nod as he sighted towards the shooting line.

Jun was mentally recalculating the adjustments needed to turn those nines into tens. It was a habit of his, something he never got rid of entirely. He turned to Soonyoung then, who was in reverence of whatever was going on. Whether he actually understood it was another issue entirely.

Still, he wasn’t wrong about the difficulty of making the team—especially in archery, most especially in South Korea. But calling it “amazing” was a stretch for someone who had yet to score higher than a nine.

Predictably, as the set ended, the young archer, who looked not a day older than seventeen, was cut from the selection pool. Jun knew that look of disappointment well. He silently wished and hoped that the kid was, in every way, stronger than he had been at that age.

Two new archers stepped onto the field. Soonyoung’s eyes almost literally lit up as soon as he caught sight of the bowman on the further end of the field. This time he didn’t even bother tracking where their arrows landed. His attention was focused on something, not the targets but on a specific someone who shot them.

Truth be told Soonyoung’s interest in sports was paltry — then somehow he became particularly enthusiastic about recurve archery. Jun would have rolled his eyes except he sort of understands it, in one way or another.

“By the way,” Jun asked, “aren’t you going to check out the rest of the field?”

Soonyoung set down the binoculars. His eyes flickered toward the shooting line where was preparing to take his shot. “I can’t help looking at cute stuff,” Soonyoung muttered with a sheepish green.

Jun shook his head. “You’re really hopeless when it’s Lee Jihoon.”

Soonyoung smirked as if holding his evidence out against Jun. “At least I’m honest about it.”

Jun opened his mouth to ask for a clarification, but before he could get a word out, he felt a hand gently ruffle his hair.

“It’s fine, Junnie. He’s doing socials when we go to Tokyo, so he doesn’t need to be too plugged in right now.”

“Wonwoo,” Jun tilted his head up as he greeted the newcomer. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the photography pit?”

“I’m staying here instead,” Wonwoo replied, his eyes surveying the field before settling back on Jun. “The view is much better here than over there.”

“Both of you are killing me!” Soonyoung blurted out, a bit too loudly, causing several federation officials to turn and glare in the direction of the media pit. He quickly motions to the officials with an apologetic wave, mouthing a "sorry," then glances at the archer on the field, who looks equally puzzled.

“What’s up with you?” Jun questioned, evidently befuddled.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just being dramatic,” Wonwoo supplied. “Anyway, Soonyoung don’t be too distracted in Tokyo.”

Soonyoung smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sure some of us will be plenty distracted,” he retorted smugly.

Wonwoo glared at Soonyoung who stood his ground as he stuck out his tongue to taunt him.

Jun hesitated as his eyes flicked between Soonyoung and Wonwoo to catch something he’d somehow missed. It felt like walking in on a room full of people who’d just stopped laughing at a joke.

“I’m just looking forward to working with both of you in Tokyo,” he pushed the confusion aside and jumped back into the script casually. “It’s going to be a great experience.”

Wonwoo sat down on the bench beside Jun. He rested his hand on one shoulder. “But are you really okay with covering in Tokyo?” he queried softly.

Jun opened his mouth and immediately closed it in apparent hesitation. He dropped his gaze down to the ground as his fingers clutched the ledge ahead of him. He wasn’t a sports writer—never had been—yet, much to his dismay he was the most qualified staffer.

If Jun had it his way, he would have been away in a cosy café, typing out a list of the city’s top ten kouign-amann , with the scent of buttery pastry itself melding with the velvety aroma of good—but practically overpriced—coffee. The chatter in the café would have provided the perfect backdrop as he indulged in fieldwork, in other words, sampling a freshly baked piece of kouign-aman . Instead, he found himself standing in the editor-in-chief’s office, where the smell of pastries was now the scent of looming dread and deadlines.

Na Youngseok, the esteemed editor-in-chief of Seoul’s The Cubic, had so much faith in him. Jun thought sometimes it was a little too much.

“Jun,” the editor-in-chief began, “I need you to cover the archery trials and the Tokyo Olympics.”

Jun blinked as if his ears had just betrayed him. “Archery? Olympics?” he managed, “I’m not a sports writer.”

“But you are very well acquainted with archery,” Na Youngseok countered, leaning back in his chair with a far too knowledgeable smile for Jun’s liking. “Especially Olympic archery.”

Jun knew well that Chief Na wasn’t one to make frivolous requests. Like the years of reputation preceding him, everything he did was well-calculated, and backed by facts and checks and balances.

Jun nodded slowly as if surrendering to the intensity. He knew exactly what it meant to know archery. “Yes, but that was a long time ago.”

“It’s a matter of institutional pride that we report it accurately,” The editor-in-chief didn’t answer directly—he rarely did. “I’m sure you’re well aware of how important it’s handled properly, especially in the context of this country.”

“Yes, of course,” Jun replied to the Chief and now again to Wonwoo albeit only half-convincingly.

Wonwoo tilted his head and frowned for a bit. He looked like a wary sceptic, the same look Jun thought was often a bit puzzling but also a little bit heart-quaking. Jun often marvelled at how Wonwoo approached everyone with such great compassion and kindness.

Wonwoo opened his mouth to say something, but before he could even actually speak, Soonyoung interrupted with his new-found exuberance.

“Quick question—how would they do tie-breakers here?”

“They shoot one more arrow each,” Jun blinked and bobbled his head to shift his gears to Soonyoung’s query. “The arrow closest to the centre wins. If the judge can’t decide, they keep shooting.”

“Wow…that’s so… tense.” Soonyoung’s jaw dropped partly in astonishment but mostly in shock.

“That’s true,” Jun affirms. “But that’s what they train for anyway.”

“Some serious mentalist stuff right there,” Soonyoung added. “So, who’s expected to make the team this time?”

Jun pondered for a moment as he drew from memory, and then he spoke confidently. “Unless someone sets a new record at the trials, maybe Lee Dokyeom, Chwe Hansol, and Lee Jihoon for the men’s team. Then Kim Sejeong, Shin Hana, and Kang Mina.”

“You said Lee Jihoon,” Soonyoung said contentedly, clearly pleased with the mention.

“Yeah,” Jun said as it was self-evident. “It would take something unprecedented if any of them would be knocked off if I’m being honest...but you never know.”

Wonwoo nodded in apparent agreement. “I believe it, especially since you said it,” he directed to Jun.

At the sight of that, Soonyoung pretended to gag. “Of course you do,” he said as he smirked and rolled his eyes before following up. “But can anyone challenge for Olympic gold this year?”

“Among the Koreans?”

“For the other countries,” Soonyoung clarified.

Jun considered the question carefully as he tried to refocus. “There’s still Chou Tzuyu—she’s the current world record holder and a serious contender. And then maybe Aron Kwak, I’m pretty sure he’s hungry for gold.”

Like many things in the world, if one has enough expertise the outcome could be predicted. As if it were scripted, Jun’s national team line-up came around as he expected. He allowed himself a small, satisfied smile at the very least. A tiny bit of revelment as his predictions played out flawlessly, while his colleagues almost applauded in amazement.

“Wow, Jun,” Soonyoung said, almost giving a standing ovation. “It’s hard to believe you aren’t a sports writer.”

Maybe it’s just archery, the thought flickered as he immediately threw it down a proverbial gutter.

“It’s true,” Wonwoo nodded. “Your understanding of it is really deep.”

Wonwoo gave Jun a gentle poke in the flanks. It’s a gesture he’d perfected over time towards Jun who, by all accounts, had always wondered why it made his ribcage thump in between.

“Uhh… thank you,” Jun squeaked, somehow feeling a tad bit undeserving. “Anyway we have to go in—”

“Wen Junhui?” a familiar voice called out from behind them. “Jun, is that you?”

Jun turned around then his eyes widened at the sight of the man approaching him. “Junmyeon-hyung,” he greeted respectfully, offering a bow.

Junmyeon’s face lit up in apparent delight. “You’ve grown up! How have you been?”

“I’ve been… well,” Jun mumbled awkwardly.

“I’m surprised! Yixing said he’s heard you’ve been skipping the national trials in Beijing for years.” Junmyeon said curiously. “But I’ve also been told you were quite active in the Korean university archery circuit. I never got to confirm it myself, but you go by Moon Junhwi here right?”

Jun swallowed as the words caught in his throat for a moment. “I do,” he confirmed. “It’s how it’s officially read here.”

Junmyeon nodded, “I figured. So, you’re the legendary record holder everyone talks about. No wonder they said Moon Junhwi couldn’t compete for Korea—it all makes sense now.”

“I wasn’t…” Jun shook his head quickly. “I just needed it for the scholarship.”

Soonyoung interjected as his curiosity piqued. “Wait, what do you mean, trials? What do you mean, records?”

Jun sighed heavily. Clearly, there was no easy way out of this conversation. Not when his past a little bit too literally came to haunt him. “I thought you were aware that I was on Yonsei’s archery team.”

“I know you’re from Yonsei, but to be honest, sports don’t interest me as much as it does lately,” Soonyoung blinked in surprise. “But okay, that makes sense now, why you know so much about what’s going on… but national trials? Have I skipped your name when I was reading about it?”

“Soonyoung,” Jun said as if reminding him of something.

“Huh…you mean China?!” Soonyoung’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I mean, I know you are Chinese but isn’t making the Chinese national team kind of impossible?”

“Soonyoung…” Wonwoo's eyes flicked to Jun, who sat with his shoulders hunched and his fingers gripped around his own wrists. Jun’s gaze dropped down to the floor, his breath slowed down, shallowed as his lips pressed into a tight line. "Maybe give him a minute," Wonwoo suggested in a whisper.

“Well, apparently I did,” Jun mustered his strength to respond as he continued to tighten his fingers.

Junmyeon flashed him a smile. “Jun, you really shouldn’t be so modest about it. The sport probably misses you as much.”

“Thank you, hyung,” Jun responded politely. He had always found it difficult to accept praise, especially now in a field he was convinced had moved on from him.

“I know you’ve been out of the competitive scene for a while, but you’ve got plenty of time to make a comeback if you ever decide to.”

If Jun will be honest, the thought of returning to competition had crossed his mind more than once. But that’s all there was to it. A thought. A possibility. “I appreciate it, hyung,” he said.

Junmyeon nodded, then glanced at his phone briefly before returning his attention to Jun. “Yixing and I would love to catch up. But if you ever feel the itch to train again, we’re around.” He reached into his pocket and handed Jun a card with his number on it.

Jun accepted the card with a polite nod. “Thanks, hyung. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“No pressure, Jun, but the door’s always open for you.” With that, Junmyeon gave a small wave and said his goodbyes.

Jun followed with his eyes as Junmyeon disappeared out of sight. He examined the card handed to him. It was thin, and small but felt heavy as it was a compelling invitation. It wasn’t repulsive, not exactly, but he was just uncertain if that world still had a place for him.

🏹🎯

The plethora of sensory stimulation did nothing to mask how much the space felt like an interrogation room to Jun. The scent of roasted duck and char siu only augmented how much he felt like fleeing, while the sight of the dimsum cart zooming past told him to fight it. The atmosphere was thick, and so was the weight of Soonyoung’s almost oppressive focus on him.

Soonyoung sat across from Jun. His eyes almost burrowed through Jun’s skull while his chopsticks froze mid-air. Jun avoided his stare and deflected his eyes instead on the glass turntable in the centre of the table while Wonwoo observed him trying to spin it. It was one of those things Jun does when he might be deeply contemplating something.

“So, it just so happens that you call Olympic gold medalist Kim Junmyeon ‘hyung’, and you seem to also know silver medalist Zhang Yixing,” Soonyoung leaned back in his chair to start the questioning.

Jun forced an awkward grin as he felt like was in a pressure cooker. “Well... it’s kind of a long story,” he began and hoped it might temper for a bit.

“Wen Junhui. I looked you up in the car,” he scoffed. “I knew you weren’t just obsessed with collecting cat plushies and 1+1 deals.”

Jun sighed in defeat. He dropped his hands away from the lazy susan to his lap under the table. Well no turning back from it . “Okay. What do you know… or want to know?”

“2010 Youth Olympic Gold, against National record-holder Lee Dokyeom of South Korea,” Soonyoung starts.

“Yeah… that happened,” Jun winced in admission.

“2011 Junior World Archery championships,” Soonyoung continued as if reading off a list of accusations, “A new Junior World record for the recurve ranking round.”

Jun shifted in his seat. It wasn’t summer yet but he was definitely feeling the heat. “That’s also true,” he mutters, looking anywhere but at Soonyoung. His eyes briefly caught Wonwoo, who relaxed his eyes but looked more worried rather than curious.

Soonyoung, undeterred, presses on with a slight smirk. “And Team China’s youngest archer in 2012… at the London Olympics.”

“Yeah... that’s exactly how I know Yixing-gē. We were teammates… as for Junmyeon-hyung, you know, it’s kind of a small community and they are kinda...”

“Hmmm… interesting,” Soonyoung remarked.

Wonwoo spoke up gently. “Hey, let’s be careful here. I’m sure Jun has his reasons for keeping this.”

Jun glanced up apologetically. “Honestly, I wasn’t deliberately trying to hide it. It’s just... a lot to unpack.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Jun. We’re not here for some confessionals on a reality show.” Soonyoung grinned in response as if to assure him. “But I’m really just curious, why’d you quit?”

Wonwoo furrowed his brows at Soonyoung quickly, as if signalling him to approach it carefully.

Jun chuckled awkwardly, which felt more like conditioning himself to calm down than genuine amusem*nt while his eyes flashed weariness. “I guess this is what they say about your past coming to haunt you,” he said as he massaged his temples in preparation.

“Archery isn’t exactly a spectator sport but there were still all those eyes on you... it was overwhelming,” he took a few more deep breaths to continue. “Do you know what happened in London?”

Soonyoung eagerly nodded in affirmation. “I read it. Finishing fourth at the Olympics is amazing!”

A shadow seemed to pass over Jun’s face as his expression mellowed. “But, you know... not everyone saw it that way. It was brutal—the internet, they called me a failure, said I choked when it mattered most. Even at school, some people wouldn’t let me forget it.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened slightly as he made a realisation. “London... weren’t we sixteen in 2012?”

Jun pursed his lips and nodded silently.

“Sixteen?!” Soonyoung threw his hands up in utter disbelief. “Do you know what I was doing at sixteen? Downloading SHINee content on questionable websites! And I bet Wonwoo over here was levelling up in some video game dungeon.”

“For the record,” Wonwoo cut through, “I bought the games legally with my allowance.”

Jun managed a genuine chuckle. For a moment, it lightened the heaviness in his chest as it was a bit of a welcome distraction.

“But seriously, I can’t imagine carrying the weight of a country on your shoulders at that age. At the Olympics? That’s intense,” Soonyoung continued in amazement.

“Yeah,” Jun’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a bit of teeth-grinding. “But no matter... I didn’t meet expectations. Everyone expected me to bring home a medal, but I had nothing. Every bit of that was a failure on my part. I let everyone down.”

No wonder. Wonwoo thought maybe that's when everyone gave 100%, Jun pushed himself to 500%. Jun was relentless — he was never satisfied with his own output, always doubting and second-guessing what he did. Adding to that, he rarely ever refused work-related requests.

“That’s insane,” Soonyoung shook his head aggressively. “Not you though, you were just a kid. Kids shouldn’t have to go through that kind of pressure.”

“It’s the adults who failed you by putting you in that position,” Wonwoo added. "They should have shielded you, not leave you out like that in the open.”

Jun fell silent. He picked up his chopsticks and slowly chewed on his food. He stared into the distance as the ambient sound faded. Admittedly, he had some lingering thoughts about it and what could have been.

Soonyoung shattered the muteness gently. “So, is that why you ended up in Korea?”

“It wasn’t the plan initially. I needed a break after everything that happened,” Jun shared as he dropped his gaze down to the clay pot turned cold. “I thought a time away would help me clear my head. Over here, no one was watching me, no expectations, no constant scrutiny. I could just breathe for the first time in a long while.

Jun continued, “I started skipping every trial back in China, just... not showing up. Then, I realised I hadn’t gone back at all. Staying here just felt... easier.”

“But it’s not like you actually quit?” Soonyoung raised though as if he was prancing on caramelised surface. “I mean, Yonsei archery?”

Jun looked to Wonwoo as if trying to look for something to anchor him. “Doing that was the easiest way to stay here legally. Plus, it covered my school fees so I won’t have to burden them with money. My mom, aunt, and uncle were all for it. They wanted me to focus on my studies instead of getting pulled back into… that stuff.”

A moment of silence followed as Jun’s gaze dropped to the table. His back stiffened. Tensed up almost in tune with his memories. “My father didn’t see it that way. He called it ‘playing around’ once, like I was gallivanting by spending time in university competitions.”

Wonwoo placed a hand on Jun’s arm and gently squeezed it, as if offering some form of solidarity.

“Do you… did you start hating the sport? ” Soonyoung tiptoed out as if there was a fragile sticker on the conversation.

Jun gnawed on his lips for a bit before he finally came up with an answer. “Hate is a strong word,” he said.

“Would you still come back though?”

Jun's fingers drifted around the table cloth as if sketching out temporality. “I don’t know,” he murmured.

After a few bowls of braised beef and roasted duck wraps later, Soonyoung glanced at his watch. His eyes widened at the sight of the time gone by. “I’d love to stay, but I’ve got to get going. You know, Latte might start chewing through the plants soon.”

Jun chuckled softly. “Yeah, you better get going. Can’t keep a hungry child waiting.”

Soonyoung stood up, grabbed his jacket. “Exactly. See you guys tomorrow. Oh, and send my thanks to Auntie and Uncle too.”

With a quick wave, Soonyoung headed out, leaving Jun and Wonwoo behind.

Jun watched him leave before turning to Wonwoo. “Shouldn’t you be going?”

Wonwoo shook his head gently as he flashed his familiar smile at Jun, who did his best to ignore what his chest thought of it. “I’d rather wait for you. I need to help out with the cleaning too.”

As they began tidying up, Wonwoo called out to Jun’s aunt who was tallying the sales at the counter. “Thank you for the meal, Auntie. It was delicious as always.”

“You’re welcome, Wonwoo.” She replied in appreciation, “You should bring your family next time.”

“Of course,” Wonwoo reciprocated. “I’m sure they’ll love it here just as much as they love Jun’s cooking.”

Jun’s face flushed slightly. Sometimes, it caught him off guard how Wonwoo would praise him easily. “I didn’t know the stir-fried pork would be such a hit,” he muttered.

“But you’re really good,” Wonwooo insisted. “My noona and step-mom probably like you more than me at this point.”

“That’s only because they think you’ll burn down the kitchen,” he added as he shifted his eyes towards his aunt. “Besides, I learned from the best.”

Wonwoo followed Jun’s gaze as he found his aunt trying to move a stack of heavy boxes. Before Jun could move, Wonwoo stepped forward as if to race against him and signalled for Jun to just stay where he was.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he offered the older lady.

“Thank you, Wonwoo” she responded.

Wonwoo and Jun’s aunt moved toward the storage room in the back. As they walked, she lowered her voice as if careful for anyone not to hear. “I overheard you all talking about Kim Junmyeon and Zhang Yixing earlier. And I saw Jun looking at a business card he took out from his wallet,” She shared. “He’s being invited back into competing, isn’t he?”

Wonwoo simply gave a small smile which confirmed her suspicions.

Jun’s aunt sighed softly. “He never admits it, but it’s obvious to anyone who knows him. He still loves it. Do you know he’s up to date with it?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “He actually never talked about it to us before.”

She glanced back towards where Jun was working. “In Yonsei, he didn’t really need the sports scholarship. I’m sure he would have gotten an academic one… but somehow his eyes always look like he longs for it.”

Wonwoo tried to picture it. Somehow, it made sense to him. His mind went back to a time about a year and a half back when he was given an assignment that led to some profound discovery.

It was late at night and a lot colder back then. Wonwoo was hunched over his laptop surrounded by cans of black and green energy drinks. He was busy planning out the photo essay on the country’s most promising young athletes. Naturally, he found himself looking through the reliable repository called the internet. As he scrolled through countless profiles and videos, his finger paused over a thumbnail—a video interviewing Lee Dokyeom.

“We hear you had quite a rival at the Junior level,” the interviewer asked. “Do you remember Wen Junhui of China?”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrowed. The name was familiar, he was sure, but the owner barely mentioned it. For a moment, Wonwoo tried to jog his memory to resurface where he last heard it.

“Junnie?”

The video cut to a montage of the Youth Olympics in Singapore. The camera zoomed in on another boy with calm eyes and a steady stance.

TEN.

The speakers beamed as the boy released the arrow almost like pouring wine out of a decanter.

Wonwoo held his breath the same way the boy did. He was much younger, his features much softer but Wonwoo was certain he knew every bit of him—including the way he hit targets with such effortless nonchalance and grace. But never like this, not on an international stage. Certainly not in any iteration of an Olympics.

“And Wen Junhui of China takes the gold medal,” the commentator announced as the sound of applause beamed through the field. The familiar boy who sparkled under the daylight stood there, composed and confident, basking in a victory — his Jun, who always told him to eat well, not just eat good but gets flustered at the slightest praise of anything he did.

By dawn, Wonwoo was still glued to his laptop. Admittedly he barely got any work done — not unless the profile he was building was actually for Chinese athletes. It was several hours of deep diving into the documented records of Wen Junhui.

When they finally left the restaurant to head home, Wonwoo glanced at Jun with a gaze just as pensive as how Jun was looking at the pavement. After a few moments of silence and a little bit more of hesitation, Wonwoo spoke up.

“You know, I’ve known for a long time about your archery history.”

Jun stopped in his tracks. “You did? Why didn’t you ever bring it up?”

“Because you never did. I figured you had your reasons for keeping it.”

“So... what do you think?”

“I think you’re amazing,” Wonwoo said as he turned to Jun.

Jun waved his hand as he tried to dismiss it, as he usually did with anything that praised him. “I don’t know about that.”

Wonwoo snickered softly. There was something about Jun’s tendency to downplay his achievements that always made Wonwoo wish Jun could see himself just as how he sees him.

“So, about what Kim Junmyeon said... your aunt found out about it,” Wonwoo disclosed.

“Well... yeah, nothing usually gets past her,” Jun replied as his face scowled involuntarily.

“Just so you know I’m here to support you,” Wonwoo ruffled Jun’s hair to ease whatever he was thinking. “You know, I’ve watched you several times in the university circuit.”

“You have? Barely anyone watches those meets,” Jun’s eyes expanded as he tried to fix his hair back to a reasonable shape. “You never said anything… I didn’t think you would have seen any of it.”

“Junnie, I was also a student sports journalist.”

“Ah... makes sense.”

“You really look breathtaking when you’re drawing arrows in the shooting zone.”

Jun tried to brush it off with a light laugh and a few more blinks. “Okay, what do you need?” he asked obviously to deflect any of it.

“Your smile.”

“You’re playing with me again.”

Wonwoo grinned as he gauged for a reaction. In this case a grimace.

“But seriously,” Wonwoo continued, “that little thing you do where you pat your cheeks after a set—it’s cute.”

Jun gritted his teeth as he scrunched his eyebrows, momentarily thrown off. “How do you know about that?”

Wonwoo’s smile faltered for a second before he recovered. “I notice things about you. Even the little things. Especially the little things.”

Jun caught himself again. Not completely embarrassed but wanting to hide his face as well. “I didn’t think anyone paid that much attention,” he mumbled, hoping Wonwoo actually hadn’t heard anything.

“Well, some people do,” Wonwoo blurted with a gentle smile that seemed to give away everything but also nothing.

They walked in silence for a moment as the city fell closer to a slumber. The night air was getting warmer as the flowers disappeared into green leaves.

“Dad said to invite you to go hiking again this weekend,” Wonwoo presented. “He told me to tell you first. You know, sometimes I wonder why I’m just an afterthought.”

Jun shook his head in amusem*nt. “It’s because he wants to go up quickly, but you’d want to stop and take pictures of the scenery.”

“Well, I can’t help it if it’s breathtaking ,” Wonwoo said.

Jun blinked. He found himself lost in a pair of eyes locked on him. Wonwoo often did that—held his gaze a moment too long then curved his lips into a gentle smirk or mostly a grin. Jun never allowed himself to understand why but most of the time he found his head spinning.

He felt a finger poke his side gently.

“Uhhh right. We should hurry up or we might miss the night bus,” Jun snapped back to reality. “The next one doesn’t come for another hour.”

Wonwoo smiled at him in agreement. Beneath his glasses, his eyes glowed under the remaining streetlights and signs of some buildings.

As they walked, their fingers accidentally brushed against each other. Sometimes it lingered for a bit, which Jun thought jolted some unknown cardiac rhythms or uncoordinated gut movements. Jun quickly pulled his hand away, shoving it into his pocket as if he could bury the sensation. He pushed away whatever intrusive thought he was having.

It’s just Wonwoo, he told himself firmly. Stop overthinking it.

🏹🎯

It’s become even more impressive, Jun thought as he observed the sleek monitors and rows of high-speed cameras strategically placed around the training grounds of the national training centre.

It was the pinnacle of modern sports technology. Jun once thought it looked like one of those sci-fi or better yet, dystopian movies where someone will shoot an arrow right through an apple at buffet table then ask for some kind considerations. He remembered visiting this very centre years ago, back when he was just a junior attending a joint training camp. It had been impressive then, but now, it seemed even more advanced.

“This place is incredible,” Wonwoo blurted out beside him, amazed at the whole sight. “What are all those monitors and cameras for?”

Jun followed his gaze to a screen displaying slow-motion footage. “They’re used for analysing posture and form,” he explained. “Every angle, every muscle movement is recorded, even heart rate and breathing.”

“What about that over there?” he asked, pointing to a large machine holding up a bow.

“That’s a robot,” Jun said as he recognised it. “I heard it was in development, but I didn’t know they were already using it. It’s designed as a training partner which can adapt to any scenario.”

“Amazing,” Wonwoo murmured. “I never thought there was so much technology involved here.”

“Yeah, a lot of these didn’t even exist when…” Jun’svoice trailed off as he stopped himself from recounting.

As they walked further, they were greeted by the Korean National Team’s head coach. The man had an authoritative presence but had a friendly air around him but Jun certainly thought that he wasn’t as tall now as he remembered.

“Junhui, isn’t it?” the coach said. “My, you’ve grown since I last saw you.”

“You remember me, Coach?” Jun blinked in astonishment of the recognition.

“Of course,” the coach replied. “You left quite an impression back then. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you competing internationally. I even asked Xichen about you, but he wouldn’t say much so I assumed you wanted to focus on university.”

Jun forced a smile at the name’s mention. It was familiar. But it also triggered a storm inside him. “Just taking a different path for now,” he said vaguely.

“Well, it’s good to see you here,” the older man said. “Let me introduce you to the team but I’m sure you already know them.”

They moved over to where the archers were gathered, preparing for their training session. Jun didn’t recognise a lot of faces, but he knew several ones as well. Among them was Lee Dokyeom.

“DK,” Jun called out, extending a hand in greeting.

Dokyeom turned, a smile spreading across his face as he recognized Jun. He gave him a friendly hug for the first time in a long while. “Long time no see,” he said warmly. “I thought my eyes were betraying me when I saw you with the media last month.”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Too long,” Dokyeom agreed. “You know, I made it to Rio, just like we used to dream about. But I didn't win a medal.”

“That must have been tough.”

“It was,” Dokyeom admitted, “but the people at the sports university really helped me process everything. I heard you were in Yonsei’s Archery club.”

“Oh yeah, I was.”

“And breaking records.”

“I sort of… had to,” Jun let on. “I mean the tuition wasn’t going to pay itself.”

Dokyeom picked up on how Jun slowed down his speech. He wasn’t surprised that Jun had taken a step back to focus on his education. Jun had once mentioned wanting to pursue a degree unrelated to sports, including archery. But what he didn’t expect was that Jun would seem to completely let go of a certain dream.

“I always thought you’d come back after graduation, you know. I was surprised when I found out you didn’t.”

Jun bit his lip at the mention of that. He always thought that there was a deadline for it, and that he’s way past that and concluded it might be just right to let go of it.

“Yeah, I, uh, ended up taking a different path,” Jun responded as he shifted around disconcerted. “But you, you’ve been killing it in international seniors now.”

“You know you had a lot to do with it,” Dokyeom said almost laughing.

Before they could delve further, a voice interrupted. “Hyung!”

Jun turned to see Chwe Hansol approaching with a wide grin, “I didn’t expect to see you here!” Hansol exclaimed.

“Hey, Hansol,” Jun greeted. His smile widened at the sight of his former university junior. “How’s the training going?”

“It’s great! Thanks to everything you taught me,” Hansol said as his eyes shone. “Your advice really helped me, especially during the national trials.”

Jun’s smile widened even more. He had always been fond of Hansol. He was like a real younger brother to him. He was someone who constantly worked hard to learn and improve. “I’m glad to hear that. You’ve always had the talent, you just needed to trust yourself more.”

Hansol nodded eagerly. “I still think you should come back and compete at the elite levels, hyung.”

“We’ll see,” he replied. He appreciated Hansol’s faith in him, even if he wasn’t sure he could live up to it.

“We should schedule another range session soon. I’ve been working on some new techniques, and I’d love to get your feedback.”

“Sure, but focus on the Olympics for now. You have a big opportunity ahead of you.”

“I know, but training with you always helps me improve, not just in terms of technique.”

“Alright, I will,” Jun gave in.

Wonwoo watched the interaction with interest. He had seen a black luggage around Jun's place often. He long-suspected it might have been archery equipment. It was always neatly packed but never gathering dust. While he never mentioned it, Wonwoo thought Jun took it out more than he let on and unwittingly, Hansol apparently just confirmed it.

As they continued talking, another voice joined the conversation.

“Wen Junhui right?” Lee Jihoon called out, his tone friendly but slightly more formal than the others.

“Yes. Nice to meet you,” Jun greeted, inclining his head slightly.

Jihoon’s smile remained. “You know, I always thought you would have won in Rio. With your talent, you were on track to be one of the best.”

Jun shrugged modestly. “Junmyeon-hyung, Yixing-gē, and Aron Kwak were phenomenal. I wasn’t quite at their level.”

“But you were on the trajectory to be even better,” Jihoon insisted. “I remember your records from university. They’re practically the envy of a lot of aspirants on the national team. They didn’t call you the Mainland's Miracle in juniors for nothing.”

“Those were probably flukes,” Jun said, a bit too shy at the moniker.

“Flukes?” Jihoon shook his head and crossed his arms. “You don’t set those kinds of records by accident.”

“Thanks, Jihoon,” Junmumbled, looking down. He wished he could still believe himself like Jihoon somewhat did. The praise only reminded him of the confidence he once had but now no longer truly felt.

The archers began preparing for their training session. Jun observed quietly as his eyes traced out the familiarity. A part of him ached to feel the tension of the bowstring under his fingers on a stage where all eyes were on him. But like always, he told himself that wasn’t why he was there in the first place.

After the training session, they moved to a quieter area of the facility for the interviews. Jun took the lead, asking questions about handling pressure, the importance of a support system, the rigorous training regimens, and the weight of national expectations. The archers responded with candour and a lot of pride, sharing stories of triumph and struggle.

“So, how do you handle pressure?” Jun asked like the professional he is.

Truthfully, he couldn’t help but think about how he would answer that question himself. Could I even answer that honestly? he wondered. He wasn’t sure if he had ever truly handled pressure. Especially not after London. It was more like he’d let it swallow and digest him.

“I went to a sports-focused university,” Dokyeom answered first. “So I was surrounded by people who knew exactly what I was going through. There was always a sense of camaraderie—it made everything feel a bit lighter. On top of that, there was the professional support, people who knew how to guide us back when we drifted too far.”

Jun listened, nodding along even if he thought he didn’t relate to that. His experience had been different, isolated. It was more like if he attempted to collect smoke with his bare hands.

Hansol shared his sentiments next. “For me, it’s my family and friends. They keep me anchored. They’re like my reset button.”

That must be nice , Jun thought. He was also witness to that. How Hansol’s family never failed to show up in all important and even mundane events. How they would immediately celebrate wins and also losses. Sometimes Jun wished someone grounded him like that but most times, he thought it was fine to depend on himself alone.

“Yeah, I think it’s both for me,” Jihoon respondded. “I also went to a sports university like Dokyeom but I do think having the support of your friends and family is equally as important as your peers and professionals.”

As Jun listened, each answer seemed to stir something in him, perhaps some longing.

When the interviews wrapped up, and pleasantries were done and given, Jun and Wonwoo began making their way back to The Cubic’s building.

Jun was quiet, lost in thought. When he watched the archers disperse, their faces focused but somehow content. They were under pressure but they also seemed to be enjoying themselves.

It had been five hours since they returned to The Cubic’s office. Jun’s fingers hovered above the keyboard as he shuffled between backspace and delete. The words he wanted to write seemed to dissolve before they could form, like sugar and cream melting into piping hot tea. His stomach growled as it rudely interrupted his spiralling down thoughts. Still though, he was too lost in them to even give a peep.

Wonwoo, from his desk across the room, noticed Jun’s distant stare and the tight set of his shoulders. With a sigh, he stood up and walked over.

“Junnie, You haven’t eaten since lunch,” Wonwoo said to break the discordant silence.

“Wonwoo,” Jun jolted, snapping out of his monotonous melody. “I thought you would have gone home by now.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “I wanted to wait for you. Besides, I have some things I need to finish up too.” He paused, leaning against the edge of Jun’s desk. “But don’t change the subject.”

Jun looked at the notes scattered in front of him and the several open windows of the recording. “I’m fine, really. Just lost track of time.”

Wonwoo stood his ground, unconvinced as Jun’s body language said otherwise. “I don’t think I’ve seen you leave that chair, not even once. Not even for a bathroom break.”

Jun blinked as if waking from a deep sleep “I just have to finish this,” he mumbled, his voice definitely fatigued. “I can’t stop now.”

“You’ve been staring at that screen for over an hour, you’re not going to get much done without a break.”

Jun quickly looked down at his desk, pretending to adjust the papers in front of him. Then bit his lip and shifted in his seat, unable to meet Wonwoo’s eyes, hoping his discomfort wasn’t as obvious to him. He prided himself on being self-sufficient, on not needing help. It felt strange to be called out for struggling.

“Look, Jun,” Wonwoo continued, his tone a hole notch gentler, “it’s okay to take a break. And besides, food should be here soon.”

Jun’s mouth opened, then closed it as he was interrupted.

“And don’t even think about trying to pay me back. I know what you’re going to say.”

“Wonwoo, you didn’t have to do that.”

“But I wanted to,” Wonwoo replied simply. “Sometimes it’s okay to let people take care of you even when you’re sober.”

“Sober?”

“Yeah, I mean you’re like a helpless kitten when you’re drunk. So clingy.”

“Oh, come on. I’m not that bad.”

“Really?” Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “Do you remember that office party when we were interns? You had a little too much to drink.”

Jun frowned, trying to recall it. “Vaguely… What did I do?”

“You don’t remember? You kept telling everyone you loved them. Even random strangers. Over and over again. Then you wouldn’t let go of my arm back then.”

“I DID NOT!”

“Oh, but you did,” Wonwoo continued. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to pry you off.”

Jun groaned, his face clearly the colour of lunar new year. “I’m so sorry. I must’ve been a real handful.”

“It’s okay though, I kinda liked it.” Wonwoo smiled fondly at the memory. “But honestly it made me wish…”

“Made you wish what?”

Wonwoo hesitated for a moment before brushing it off with a chuckle. “Just made me wish you weren’t so embarrassed now talking about it, I guess.”

For a moment, Jun felt his pulses frantic again. Inside he felt something which seemed a lot like gratitude. He quickly shoved the feeling aside. “Thanks,” he conceded.

“Anytime,” Wonwoo responded, as he returned to his desk, grabbing a can of black and green energy drink.

Jun frowned, noticing the drink. “Seriously, Wonwoo, you need to lay off those. They’re terrible for you,” he scolded sternly.

“What are you, my mother?” he teased.

“I mean it. Just… be careful, okay? I heard it can make your heart go all wonky.”

“If I wanted my heart to go wonky, I’d just look at you.”

“Seriously?”

Wonwoo poked his finger to one of Jun’s warmed-up cheeks which Jun was almost sure turned even warmer. To him, it’s just another one of Jeon Wonwoo’s antics.

“Don’t worry, I will, but only if you promise to eat when the food gets here.”

Jun sighed, resigned. “Fine. Deal.”

🏹🎯

Wonwoo waved his hand in front of Jun who seemed to be in a daze.

“Still thinking about the opening ceremonies?” he quipped.

Jun shook his head vigorously. He tried to forget the lingering sight of the grandeur. The Tokyo opening ceremonies had been stunning, no doubt, but they couldn’t help but remind him of London’s when he was once part of the parade itself.

“No, no,” Jun replied, snapping back to reality. “Just trying to focus on the task at hand.”

He scanned around the training range to take it in. It was familiar to him, dauntingly. Like any diligent journalist at a spectacle like this, he proceeded to make notes for their first assignment after the opening ceremonies.

The training range felt like it was both a recovery centre and a battlefield. Although it was a serene setting with neat rows of targets stretching into the distance, the atmosphere was tense. The ranking round results, after all, rarely translated directly into medals. Here, the archers regrouped, recharged, and tried to get back in tune with themselves and their bows.

Jun deliberately steered away where he knew every single one of the coaching staff would immediately recognise him. Instead, he made a detour where he knew the Chinese team would unlikely be. He wasn’t ready yet. At the minimum at least, it was only the assistant coaches and the women’s national team training today. No sign of the head coach at all.

Wonwoo followed Jun’s gaze which narrowed and seemed calculating. It was as if Jun was silently predicting the trajectory of every arrow through every draw and release. He could almost see Jun’s mind working, adjusting each shot that didn’t land in the middle of the rings.

“What’s going through your pretty head?” Wonwoo titillated, half-smiling as he tapped his fingers lightly on the middle of Jun’s glabellar prominence.

“Don’t do that,” Jun said as he batted Wonwoo’s hand away.

Wonwoo pulled away as he laughed through his teeth. “It’s obvious when you’re really thinking about something seriously. You get this look,” he said while imitating Jun’s pursed lips and scrunched forehead.

Jun shook his head in disapproval of the mimicry, then shrugged. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, cutting off any further explanation. He didn’t want to go into the depths of his thoughts just yet. “Anyway, where’s Soonyoung? He kept going on about meeting Lee Jihoon earlier.”

“He’s off doing social media management for fencing instead,” Wonwoo replied. “The venue is quite far from here.”

“Ah, with Jeonghan?”

“That’s right,” Wonwoo confirmed.

“I wonder why Jeonghan’s too excited,” Jun said.

Wonwoo shrugged. “Who knows, maybe he just likes it when people clash with swords.”

Jun’s mind drifted further as they walked around the training range. He would be lying if he said he didn’t recount the days when he was on the shooting line, not the sidelines. He hadn’t gone far when he nearly bumped into someone who is equally familiar with him.

“Wen Junhui?” the other person blinked, clearly taken aback to see him in a reporter’s suit.

“Hello, Minghao. It’s been a while,” Jun responded in recognition.

“I can’t believe it’s you. It’s been ages.” Minghao said. “You know everyone misses you.”

“I doubt that,” Jun dismissed politely.

“No, really,” Minghao insisted, “Training has been different since you left after London.”

Jun offered a small, polite smile, trying to brush off the sentiment.

“Even the head coach,” Minghao added softly. “He’s been lonely.”

Jun tensed at the mention. His shoulders stiffened, and mumbled something inaudible, avoiding Minghao's eyes.

“It’s nice to see you though,” Minghao said, patting Jun on the shoulder before turning back to rejoin the Chinese team.

Jun absorbed the reunion. It’s not like it would be unavoidable to run into people he would have known. Afterall, the archery community is tight-knit, even internationally.

Jun was once again missing in the space of his thoughts when a small group of young people approached him cautiously. They looked like university students, probably interns, carrying a camera and a clipboard.

One of them nervously asked, “Excuse me, are you a journalist?”

“Yes, I am,” Jun replied, curious by their hesitance.

“Do you think you could spare some time to participate in our content? It’s called ‘Reporters Try Olympic Sports.’ There was a scheduling mix-up, and the person we originally invited is covering another event,” the student explained, looking hopeful that it’s almost pitiful.

Jun hesitated for a moment, shifting his eyes at Wonwoo. Wonwoo offered an encouraging smile but kept his tone neutral. “It’s up to you, Jun. If you don’t want to, I think they wouldn’t mind.”

Jun knew Wonwoo well. He also knew that if he said no, the students might ask him instead. And if they did, Wonwoo would likely oblige, even if he wasn’t thrilled about it. Wonwoo was someone who would rather be behind the camera than be in front of it. Besides, the interns looked desperate, and that’s something he couldn’t find himself refusing as well.

“Alright,” Jun agreed. “I’ll do it.”

Their faces broke into visible relief. “Thank you so much!” one of them exclaimed. “Could we get your name?”

Jun reached for his press ID and held it out. “It’s Moon Junhwi from The Cubic.”

“Oh, you’re from Korea?” another asked, scribbling on the clipboard.

“Technically, yes, but…” He trailed off but ultimately decided it’s easier if they know less.

“Actually, it’s kind of ironic—there was a mix-up with Kwon Soonyoung from The Cubic. He’s supposed to be here, but he got pulled into covering another sport.”

“Oh, Soonyoung,” Jun said but amused at the turnout of events.

“Thank you so much again!” one of them beamed. “Don’t worry, someone will be here to instruct you. We’ll make it easy.”

They quickly set up the equipment, adjusting cameras and prepping the archery range for their content. After a moment, one of the interns called over the instructor. Jun pranced his eyes up and down, feeling a rush of curiosity. He hadn’t been on this side of the line for quite some time in the context of the olympics. When the instructor walked over, Jun’s eyes mellowed in expected familiarity.

“Long time no see, lad,” the man greeted, extending his hand towards Jun as his crisp accent flowed— refined but not too posh.

The man was much older than Jun, now a bit grayer around the edges, but still carried himself with the air of someone who had spent a lifetime mastering the sport. His posture was straight, as his city’s famous clocktower. Jun had once faced him in competition years ago. Almost exactly eight years ago, in a pivotal match right in the man’s own home country.

“Arthur,” Jun responded. “Good to see you again.”

As Jun shook the other man’s hand, he something a little heavier. The memory of his last outing on Olympic soil. He could still feel the tension of that day and how much it haunted him. The pressure of a nation, the sting of coming so close, only to fall short and all the events that came after it.

“Don’t give yourself a hard time, lad,” Arthur reminded Jun, trying to lighten the mood. “By the way, we have to keep up appearances, don’t we eh? All for the content, as they say.” he winked with a hint of dry amusem*nt.

The content team glanced between them puzzled by the exchange but proceeded not to think too much of it. They explained the plan instead: Jun would go through some basic archery instructions first, then they would film a match between him and Arthur afterwards.

As Arthur began explaining the basics, the content team watched closely. Wonwoo noticed their expressions slowly shifted to shock, surprised at how fast Jun picked up on it. Seemingly, they were starting to realise something was off about it.

Jun listened to Arthur’s instructions, nodding along, playing his part in the whole show. Despite that, his form could never take on another role. Especially not that of a beginner. His stance was perfect, his focus unbroken. He moved with a fluidity that betrayed his years of training. As he continued, more of the archers and coaches present began to notice the man next to Arthur. They watched and clumped together, with murmurs spreading through the group.

“Who’s that guy?” one of them whispered, nudging his teammate. “He’s really good.”

Another squinted as it gradually dawned. “Wait a minute... isn’t that Wen Junhui?”

“Wen Junhui? Are you sure?” someone else asked, leaning in to get a better look. “But he’s in a suit?”

The name rippled through the crowd, spreading like a particularly aggressive wildfire. Slowly, the whispers grew louder as people realised who Jun was. A few of them gathered closer, wanting to get a better look. By the time the match began a small crowd had formed.

Jun, however, had slipped fully into the zone, every shot landing with precision. Evidently he was oblivious to the growing attention. In his headspace, it was just between him, the bow, the arrow, the target, and the shooting line.

“Oh wow, is this a rematch of that bronze medal match in London?” a spectator blurted out.

“But I thought he quit after London,” one of them murmured, perplexed at the view. “What’s he doing back in competition?”

As Jun drew back, he felt like he could just forget everything. At the same time it also reminded him of what he had once loved about the entire thing. Control. Aim. Release. In one motion while nothing else mattered.

“Hold on,” another said, pointing. “Isn’t that a press pass hanging on him?”

“So he’s not competing? That’s weird. He was such a prodigy,” a younger archer commented.

“Didn’t he win almost every competition he entered back then?” a different voice else chimed in.

“He did,” another confirmed. “Never finished off-podium until 2012”

TEN.

Arrow after arrow hit the target, most of them landing right in the golden circles.

“I heard from my friend he was attending university in Seoul,” another spectator shared.

“Is that so? I heard rumours he competed in that circuit. Seems like there was some truth to it.”

“Yeah, clearly he’s not unpolished,” someone chimed in. “That’s not the form of someone who let go of it.”

When the match ended, there was a burst of applause which pulled Jun out of his concentrated state. He flinched, startled to see how many people had gathered around at the end.

Arthur approached him with a smile. “That was a fine rematch,” he said with a touch of pride. “I won’t dig into it, but it’s clear you’ve grown since London. It’s good to see you back, lad.”

Lad. Jun smiled back. He though maybe he could still do it. Maybe, there was still a place for him. He was no longer sixteen. No longer the kid who thought every mistake was a permanent mark on his soul. He was still just as lost but it wasn’t as bad. At least now, it felt like he could allow for that kid not to punish himself, even for a bit.

The content creation team huddled together, clearly confused by what had just happened. How he won against a former medalist so masterfully. “What was that? How did he do that?”

Arthur turned to them with a chuckle. “If you think I’d be embarrassed by this, let me tell you, that’s top-tier archery you just witnessed. There’s no shame in losing to Wen Junhui.”

“You did great,” Wonwoo said as he made his way close to Jun. “How do you feel?”

“It feels kind of—”

“Junhui!”

Jun turned his head at the source of the callout who approached with a broad smile, clearly excited to see him. The person had always been like an older brother to Jun. Coach Huang

“Coach Huang,” Jun greeted. “How have you been?”

“You know how it is,” Coach Huang replied. “Busy with training, competitions, and keeping the team in line. But it’s been good.”

Coach Huang glanced around, as Jun’s eyes crinkled. He then leaned in a bit closer. “Do you know I’ve been looking for you? The head coach hasn’t told us anything about where you’ve been.”

Once again, at the mention of the head coach, Jun froze. It was the one person he had been avoiding for years. His shoulders stiffened instinctively. Wonwoo saw through it, and rubbed soothing circles around Jun’s back.

Coach Huang noticed the tension and also tried to soothe the air surrounding them. “But you know, I don’t think the head coach is angry. At least not with you. I’m pretty sure he wants to talk, but you know how he gets—prideful, stubborn. He regrets a lot, I think.”

Jun exhaled deeply, trying to loosen what he was feeling. “I appreciate you telling me this, Coach. But… probably not yet.”

“I get it, Junhui. But if you ever change your mind, there’s still time. Just know that I’m rooting for you, no matter what. We all are.”

Jun smiled faintly, appreciating the concern. “Thanks, Coach.”

Coach Huang clapped Jun on the shoulder. “Just take care of yourself, alright? And remember, the door’s always open.”

Jun watched him walk away, he seemed to be a little bit too thoughtful for today. As he stood there, a young girl approached him. “Excuse me,” she began, her voice soft. “Are you really Wen Junhui?”

Jun turned to her, a bit surprised but still smiling. “Yes, I am.”

Her eyes lit up excitedly as she grinned giddily. “I just wanted to say… you were one of my inspirations. You moved with such grace on the range. I was heartbroken when you left. You should come back—you belong out there.”

“Thank you,” he replied sincerely. “That means a lot to me.”

Her words hit him deeply. It was clear earlier to him, how the adrenaline rush of a perfect shot was something that grounded him.

Just then, one of the content creation kids approached cautiously, looking sheepish. “Mr. Wen…” they stammered. “We wanted to apologise. We didn’t realise who you were earlier. We looked you up, and, wow, we’re really sorry. We didn’t mean to disrespect you, and we’re honestly in awe of your skills.”

Jun raised his eyebrows in surprise, then tried to put them at ease. “It’s no problem at all. Really.”

The intern looked relieved. “We know it kind of defeats the purpose, but… would it be okay if we still use the footage? We’ve already done so much work on it.”

“Of course, go ahead. It’s fine.”

As the content team walked away, Wonwoo sidled up to Jun. “Looks like you’re gaining some new fans, Junnie.”

Jun rolled his eyes. “Shut up,” he grumbled, but it was more apparent that he didn’t mind. Maybe, just maybe. “Come on, we need to find the Korean team and get to monitoring.”

🏹🎯

“I think it’s a negative from me,” Soonyoung mustered through the call weakly. His voice sounded lethargic, and one can imagine just how pale he looked.

Jun held the phone closer to his ear. “Are you okay? You don’t sound so good.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely not feeling great,” Soonyoung replied. In the background, Jun can definitely hear the sound of retching, as well as the toilet flushing. “I think I accidentally drank something I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Do you need us to get you anything? Medicine?” Jun asked.

“It’s fine,” Soonyoung replied. “It’s probably just the milk, you know how I am with that.” He tried to chuckle, but it came out more like a groan. “Besides, you shouldn’t let those Skytree tickets go to waste. You and your boyfriend should go on a date and have fun.”

Jun’s cheeks were splattered with a wave of crimson and some heat. He glanced at Wonwoo who was just right beside him. He plastered an amused smile on his mouth. Jun quickly turned his attention back to the phone, trying to ignore how his pulses were reacting.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Jun said, his voice pitching itself to seem less in panic. “Anyway, rest well okay and let us know if you need anything.”

“Will do, but don’t think too much about me,” Soonyoung said, practically transmitting the sound of his pained grin. “Actually, can you pass the phone to Wonwoo for a sec?”

Jun handed the phone over to Wonwoo. “He wants to talk to you,” he mumbled.

Wonwoo took the phone. “Hey. What’s up?”

There was a brief pause. His voice downturned for Jun to hear, not that Jun intended to eavesdrop anyway. It was just odd that it turned out that way.

“I know, I know, I’ll do my best,” Wonwoo responded through the receiver. “Yes, I’ll make sure to thank you for your lack of enzymes.”

Wonwoo peeked at Jun briefly, who tilted his head in curiosity. “Yeah, I’m rooting for me too,” he said into the phone.

He handed the phone back to Jun, who stared at him with a speck of suspicion. “What did he say?”

Wonwoo smirked. “Oh, you know, the usual. Told me to make sure you have a good time and enjoy this date.”

Jun shook his head dismissively, trying to ignore the thought that Soonyoung’s words suggested anything more than just teasing. “Well, we do have tickets for the Skytree,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual.

“Yeah, so we should go now to make our entry time,” Wonwoo replied as he offered his hand to Jun.

Jun bit his lower lip. His mind whirled as he examined the palm stretched out at him. He reached for it, his fingers hovered close to Wonwoo’s, but then he hesitated. Something in his chest tightened. He drew back, standing up quickly on his own instead.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he said like it was nothing. But the truth was, his heart was cycling faster than his brisk walking.

Wonwoo followed behind him. He watched Jun’s shoulders tense slightly, while Wonwoo couldn’t help but smile by himself. It was as if Jun was trying to outrun all those thoughts in his head. Wonwoo trailed closely, admittedly the way Jun seemed to stiffen at a few near touches was endearing.

間も無くとうきょうスカイツリー駅. We will soon be arriving at Tokyo Skytree Station.

They say the structure is nothing but a tourist trap— and if it was, they would like to be trapped. Afterall, a day-off only happens once in a blue moon. Besides that, it’s hard to argue when something so undeniably impressive is staring down, and when at the top of it the world will always seem smaller.

As they approached the entrance, Jun felt a strange thumping on his chest. He told himself it was just the thrill of being a tourist for once. Definitely not the fact that Wonwoo glued his eyes on him.

Jun shot Wonwoo a look. “What?”

Wonwoo blinked innocently. “What?”

Jun narrowed his eyes in apparent disapproval of the response. “You should mind where you’re looking.”

Wonwoo’s lips curled up and transformed into a smirk. “I am. The view is good.”

Jun frowned slightly. “We haven’t even seen anything yet,” he muttered, turning his attention to the queue.

“Hmm… I disagree. The view is pretty great from where I’m standing.”

Jun quickly deflected his gaze toward the queue at the lift before he could even hear some unwelcome thumping. As the lift arrived, the crowd pushed them towards the back near the glass windows. He looked down on the floor instead of the screens adjacent as he found Wonwoo’s face too close to him. Too aware of how the faint brush of Wonwoo’s breath touched on his cheek. As the elevator ascended, Jun’s consciousness of the lack of distance between them became increasingly magnified.

Stop it, he told himself off silently. Don’t read into it.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asked, whispering through hushed tones of other voices.

“Yeah, I just didn’t expect that everyone had the same idea today.”

“Just hang in there, we’ll be out soon.”

When the lift finally chimed to signal arrival at the observation deck, the doors slid open. The crowd began to dissipate out slowly, and Jun found himself still stuck beside Wonwoo. The two of them pressed closer together as the crowd thinned out of the box. They stood there for a bit, until a staff member politely signalled that it was their turn to exit.

One Jun put together how close they had been, he immediately mumbled an apology as he stumbled out of the elevator. Wonwoo followed, seemingly unbothered yet pleased by the looks of it.

The see-through walls of the observation deck of the Skytree made them feel more like suspended inside a giant lightstick. For most visitors, the sensation of being several metres up the ground was both thrilling and terrifying. For Jun, it was a mind-blowing piece of architecture.

“Wow,” Jun breathed, stepping closer to the window. “It’s stunning.”

He tried to scan through the panorama of Tokyo’s meticulously designed skyline, which looked just as curated as the city’s crowd. The colours of the metropolis couldn’t seem to decide if it were a puzzle or an abstract painting, or perhaps even graffiti. The river, presenting itself as a misplaced belt, cut through some buildings and patches of summer greenery.

“It is,” Wonwoo affirmed as he made his way next to where Jun was standing.

Jun tilted his head with a bit of second-guessing as he considered the scene before them. “Though I’m not sure it’s worth the ticket price,” he added dryly.

Wonwoo tapped on Jun’s flank then poked it instinctively. “You know, some things are about more than just money.”

As usual, Jun evaded it first before responding verbally. “Yeah, it’s still nice to be up here.”

“Especially with you,” Wonwoo dropped his voice down to pianissimo.

Jun felt another traitorous sensation. Stop it, he told himself once again.

Wonwoo reached into his bag and pulled out a vintage film camera, as one would certainly expect. It’s a habit he has cultivated. His eyes studied Jun, contemplated for a bit before holding it up to see him through the viewfinder.

Jun noticed the camera, pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, you still have it,” he said, recognising the object.

Wonwoo lowered the camera down to his cheeks while keeping his gaze fixed. “Of course. It’s one of the things I treasure most,” he replied sincerely. “Because it’s from you.”

Jun felt the sensation grow stronger. He turned back to the window, pretending to focus on the view again just to calm his quickened pulses.

“Stay still,” Wonwoo said, lifting the camera again. “I want to take a picture.”

“Won’t I be a waste of film?”

“How could it be a waste when you’re my muse?”

Jun rolled his as if to deflect the statement. “Are you just saying that for free food?”

“No, I promise it’s not about the food,” he said with a grin then reached over and gently tousled Jun’s hair.

Jun swatted his hand away, laughing in the midst of whatever it was his heart was doing. “Do what you want,” he muttered with a bit of exasperation.

“Okay you said so then I will,” Wonwoo replied to the invitation.

The ride down seemed to last more than an eternity. Thankfully, it wasn’t as crowded as the way up. Jun observed the faint reflections from the glass doors drifting back to the way Wonwoo seemed to know exactly how to push his buttons. In a way or another he secretly liked it yet felt like he had to immediately dismiss any of it.

Tokyo’s labyrinthine subway system was predictably unpredictable. In some ways, Jun found it easier to navigate than when he first came to Seoul. In the mix of people standing inside the wagons, Jun found himself increasingly entertaining the idea of Jeon Wonwoo. It wasn’t their first time hanging out, not by a long shot, but for a long while now it felt different when it’s just them two. Through the reflections, he caught himself glancing at Wonwoo who was looking out the window as the city zoomed past several stations.

He’s just being Wonwoo—caring, dependable.

He had known Wonwoo since that time he went to an inter-university academic conference. The first time he saw him, he initially found him intimidating in his own university’s jacket. He had the air of someone who knew everything. Over time, Jun had discovered that he was gentle, thoughtful, knew exactly what to say, and always there without even asking.

Jun’s thoughts were interrupted as the train pulled into their station.

間も無く代々木駅. We will soon be arriving at Yoyogi.

Unlike the Skytree, the actual trees of Meiji-jingu were made of wood. Towering varieties lined the gravel path as their branches almost met to form canopies. It was quiet, relatively peaceful, a nice change of city's metallic tang and speedy chatter. The sounds faded as they continued to walk deeper, eventually approaching a large Camphor tree surrounded by thousands of wooden wishing plaques.

“Do you want to write something down?” Wonwoo asked Jun who was definitely eying the clusters around the tree.

Jun turned to look at Wonwoo. After a moment, he nodded. “Yeah, why not?”

At the counter, they each picked up a blank wooden plaque from the shrine maiden and proceeded to borrow a pen from the small table nearby. Jun glanced around at the wishes already hung around, some superficial, some heartfelt, others intricate but all laced with definite sincerity. He took a deep breath and wrote what he felt, each stroke full of intent.

Wonwoo looked over at Jun’s. “What did you write?” he asked. He squinted at the script as Jun held the block up for him to read.

衷心祝愿全圆佑幸福美满

“Junnie, I can’t read Chinese.”

“Then I won’t tell you, it might not come true,” Jun teased.

“That’s just a superstition,” Wonwoo replied. “You know that, right?”

“Maybe, but I’d rather not take any chances.”

Wonwoo nudged him and smiled slyly. “I bet it’s something embarrassing.”

“Oh for sure,” Jun said, then added more sincerely, “But I really do wish that for you.”

“Well, as for me, I hope you’ll see yourself properly one day, Jun,” Wonwoo said earnestly.

“What do you mean?”

Wonwoo looked at Jun serenely, “See how beautiful you really are.”

Jun blinked, and quickly turned away, pretending to adjust the strap of his bag. He’s just being nice , Jun drilled into his head.

They began to walk away from the wishing plaques space. Wonwoo crept closer to Jun and prod on his shoulder. “You know,” he confessed, “it’s fun watching you get all flustered.”

Jun rolled his eyes so much that he suspected he saw his own brain. “I’m not flustered,” he grumbled, though the slight hitch definitely said otherwise.

“Are you sure about that?” Wonwoo rebutted. “Your cheeks are so red.”

Jun scoffed and crossed his arms. “It’s just the heat,” he countered firmly.

“Or maybe it’s me,” Wonwoo further taunted. His hands found itself once again frisking around Jun’s ticklish sides, definitely enjoying the way Jun almost bristled at the contact.

“Oh, please. You’re not that charming,” he shot back trying while using his hands to guard himself, as well as in an effort to maintain his composure.

“Oh, but I am,” Wonwoo insisted. “And you know it. Admit it, Junnie.”

Jun groaned, in exasperation and in an attempt to cover up his actual responses. “You wish.”

Wonwoo continued to poke Jun’s sides like he was pressing on a mechanical keyboard or some piano keys then mimicked a cat pawing at its favourite post, with his fingers scratching lightly at Jun’s side ribs.

Jun squirmed, trying to twist away from Wonwoo’s relentlessness. “Cut it out,” Jun pushed away weakly.

Wonwoo didn’t stop. If anything, he leaned closer. His face hovered close enough that Jun could feel the warmth of his breath on his nose, lashes, and cheeks. He could see his own reflection in the glistening depths of Wonwoo's eyes. Eyes which were definitely looking at him then down to his lips. Wonwoo leaned in just a millimetre more, his eyes almost half-closed. Jun’s mind went into a blank slate. For a moment, he had to think about how to continue breathing.

COME ON! GO FASTER!

Just as the space between them seemed to disappear, a loud burst of laughter from a group of tourists— perhaps university students— shattered the motion. Jun jerked back, his face was scarlet, not only red, flushing with different kinds of embarrassment.

“Sorry,” Jun mumbled, lunging away quickly. His heart drummed out a frantic rhythm like it was rushing or dragging. It’s just in your head, he reminded himself.

Wonwoo chuckled softly. It was understanding but there was a certain melancholy to it.

“It’s okay,” Wonwoo didn’t push further.

Jun cleared his throat. “I heard there’s this good matcha place near Cat Street,” he suggested, a little too saturated even for his own liking. “We could walk there, it’s near here.”

Wonwoo tilted his head in agreement. “Sure, lead the way.”

It’s not April nor was it still in the morning, but the scent of crepes and cacophony of the bustling streets indicated exactly where they were. Wonwoo made sure to stay close to Jun, subtly guiding him around hoards of tourists as he seemed to be in a little bit of a daze. Despite that, Wonwoo hoped this time it would go unnoticed.

Jun definitely did. He took note of how Wonwoo would pause and occasionally place a hand on Jun’s back to steer him clear of oncoming pedestrians, how he’d make little comments about the quirky shops they passed to find something to critique or admire. But overall, he kept unusually silent.

Eventually, the busy sidewalks give way to narrower side streets. They approached the matcha café, found a table outside, and sat down with their drinks. Jun took a sip of his drink and let the flavour settle on his taste buds. He fled his eyes for a second over at Wonwoo, who was looking around and summarising the view.

“Today’s been fun,” Jun admitted. “I mean we’re still technically here for work but it’s the first time I actually got around. The last time I was here was for a competition.”

Wonwoo turned to Jun, a bit thoughtfully like he was curating his words well. “I’m glad you’re having a good time,” he said. “You deserve it.”

Jun looked down and almost counted the stones on the pavement. He went about swirling his drink. “I’m sorry if I’ve been weird,” he said almost mutedly but loud enough to hear. “I guess I’m just… not used to this kind of thing.”

Wonwoo started to reach out to ruffle Jun’s hair but then this time he stopped himself. His hand lingered in the air for a bit before dropping down. He didn’t want to overstep. “You’re not weird,” he assured. “You’re just silly, Junn… Jun.”

Strangely, Jun felt a pang of what was probably disappointment at the absence of Wonwoo’s touch. He wanted to ask about it but before he could dwell on it, he heard a callout.

“Junhui?”

Jun turned sharply, and his face froze just as quickly. A man in his mid-50s with his posture upright and his expression unreadable. Jun quickly composed himself, then slightly bowed his head.

“Head Coach,” Jun greeted the man respectfully in Mandarin.

The man nodded. “I was hoping we could talk,” he replied in the same language.

Jun took a deep breath. Maybe, it was time to confront this. He glanced at Wonwoo who looked a little bit lost. “Wonwoo, you should head back first,” Jun said. “This might take a while.”

“Alright,” Wonwoo said with concern.

Jun watched as Wonwoo walked away. He then turned back to face the man who approached him. “Let’s talk,” he said firmly, yet inside there was some swirling uncertainty

The restaurant was dated but well-maintained. The walls had some indications of its age, but the tables and chairs were polished, and the floor tiles scrubbed clean. The speakers blared out music which seemed to have belonged to a yesteryear yet was still popular recently. Jun remembered the last time he was there—at fifteen, seated at this very table with the same man now sitting across from him.

Wen Xichen was a man who approached everything methodically. He lived with almost a jarring level of neurosurgical precision. His reputation was that of a man who took everything far too seriously, from his morning coffee to his athletes’ training regimens. Jun knew him as someone who was never satisfied with anything less than perfection.

The coach leaned back in his chair, his eyes as cold as the zaru-soba served in front of them. “I’ve heard about you filming with those kids and Arthur Chuan at the training range,” he revealed almost monotonously.

Jun didn’t respond. He stared at the table as his body remained tense and guarded. His hands clenched in his lap almost clutching the fabric of his trousers. The air between them was thicker than a tree sap that had been gathering for six years at least.

“You haven’t gone home in a long time,” the older man continued.

Jun felt his jaw tight. “I didn’t know if I was wanted there,” he replied strainedly.

The coach’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why would you think that?” he sharpened his tone almost accusingly.

Jun exhaled slowly and deeply. His chest started to ache and feel heavy. “Because after the Olympics, I felt so alone. So lost. So unsupported. I didn’t even have time to process what happened. You told me the only way to deal with it was to suck it up, train harder, and be the best.”

“Junhui…”

“I was sixteen. And all eyes were on me, constantly. I didn’t know how to handle all of that,” he narrated with his voice trembling.

Wen Xichen’s face threaded with a flicker of regret. “I only wanted the best for you back then…”

Jun cut him off. “I needed my father. Not the national team’s head coach.”

While the restaurant was almost full, there was a tense silence that fell between them. Jun tried his best to stop himself from shaking as his words settled heavily.

The older man looked down at his hands as if trying to search for the next set of words to say. “I’m sorry, Junhui. I know I wasn’t there for you the way I should have been.”

Jun lifted his gaze, meeting his father’s eyes for the first time in several years.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, especially in all those years you haven’t talked to me. I realise how much I failed you as a father.”

“You didn’t even try to reach out,” he said as the pain seeped through. “You never tried to find me.”

“I knew you were in Korea the whole time,” he confessed. “I wanted to reach out, but I didn’t know how. I’ve never been good at expressing myself, especially when it comes to you.”

Jun felt the old wounds reopen. At the same time, it was like there was an attempt to re-bandage. There was a sincerity from that voice. It was something he never even imagined. “I always wanted to make you proud, even when it was too much for me.”

“I’m proud of you, Junhui, more than you know. I’m just not very good at saying it,” the older man admitted as his voice mellowed. “I watched some of your university tournaments. I was there when you set that record. I followed your career from a distance because I thought maybe you needed time away from me.”

Jun felt a lump in his throat. His eyes stung more than he would admit.

“I know it won’t be easy for you to let me back into your life, but I miss my eldest son,” the coach’s voice was almost pleading. “I want to be there for you, if you’ll let me. I get jealous when your mother and brother can talk to you so freely, and I wish I could have that with you.”

Jun took a deep breath. He had a strange mix of emotions he couldn’t quite define nor classify. He looked up once again. “I’ve missed you too… bàba,” he said as if embracing an old friend.

“Thank you, son,” A smile formed on the man’s lips as his eyes tempered down. “I’m always proud of you, even if I haven’t always shown it.”

Jun felt some weight lift off his back. It wasn’t a lot but it was a start. Years of distance slowly being bridged. Wounds gradually patch up and heal.

“The young man you were with earlier… what’s his name?”

Jun hesitated for a brief second before he replied, “His name is Wonwoo.”

“What’s your relationship with him?” he asked as if still on some eggshells.

Jun considered the question for a moment. He let the memory of the day scrobble.

“He’s very important to me,” Jun said beamingly. Previously undefined, now it was admission. Somehow, it felt a little bit like a victory.

“I’d like to meet him when you’re ready. I want to be part of your life again, to understand the people who are important to you. If you’ll let me.”

Jun smiled back slightly. One step at a time.

The summer air on a busy sidewalk in Tokyo embraced Jun as he made an exit after finishing his meal. The evening was warm and slightly humid as the city’s energy pulsed around him. Jun paused for a moment, taking it all in. He hadn’t expected to feel this light tonight.

As he scanned the street, he was surprised to find Wonwoo waiting behind the nearest bus stop right outside the restaurant. Wonwoo stood there, hunched over his phone, his face illuminated slightly as he viewed a stream.

Jun watched him for a moment, his heart did a thing again. But this time, he didn’t attempt to question it. Jun allowed himself to feel something he’s locked away for a long time. Unashamedly, he thought Wonwoo looked really good under the glow of neon hues. Whether it was red, or even purple or blue. He paced himself lightly and approached Wonwoo. When he was close enough, Wonwoo looked up as their eyes met instantly.

Wonwoo opened his mouth. “I uh… I had nothing to do at the hotel… I thought I should—”

“You waited,” Jun interrupted softly.

Wonwoo straightened up and began rambling. “Yeah, I… I wasn’t sure if you’d want to walk back alone. It’s late and we’re in a different country and I figured maybe you—”

Wonwoo barely bared out his thoughts as he was interrupted by a pair of arms surrounding him. “Caught off-guard” was an understatement, “surprised” was even more insufficient. Frankly, it was more like an uncharted territory.

Wonwoo’s mind went haywire as Jun clung to him tightly, his face pressing against Wonwoo’s shoulder. Wonwoo’s arms hung awkwardly at his sides, as he tried his best to put together his scattered thoughts at that moment. His heart was pounding so loudly he was certain that Jun, or even the bystanders, could actually hear it.

Wonwoo was suddenly enveloped in the scent of fresh peaches as he felt Jun’s warm breath on his nape gently puffing. The softness of his cheeks against his neck made his mind race faster than those 100m record holders. He swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing as he managed to process things.

The tension melted eventually. Cautiously, his arms finally start moving. One hand moved up to cradle the back of Jun’s head, his fingers threading gently through his hair, while the other on his back to pull him closer.

“Junnie… of course” Wonwoo whispered with a soft exhale.

Wonwoo could feel Jun’s heart beating in sync with his own. He relaxed into it. In the same manner, Jun permitted himself just to revel in comfort without thinking.

They stayed like that for a bit longer while the surroundings flowed at a faster pace. Eventually, they pulled apart slightly, just enough to glimpse at each other’s faces. Right then, Jun looked serene. The most serene Wonwoo had ever seen from him.

“How are you feeling?” Wonwoo asked as gently as the breeze.

“I think things will be alright,” Jun replied with confidence, as if he was finally starting to believe it himself.

“Do you want to head back now, or should we go somewhere else?”

Jun shook his head slightly. “I think I just want to rest now.”

“Okay then,” Wonwoo agreed tenderly.

They started to tread the pavement as the night crowd got thinner. Everything around them was faster but they were unhurried. It was as if time waited for them. Step-by-step, the space between them seemed to close gradually. Wonwoo occasionally glanced at Jun, trying to read his expression. Jun’s face was calm, contented, almost lost in thought, but as usual breathtaking .

Their shoulders grazed a few times. Each time it happened, Jun felt a sensation that he didn’t shy away from. In the same manner, Wonwoo felt his knuckles brush against Jun’s. The contact is brief but no less than electrifying. Wonwoo hesitated for a moment. Then, millimetre by millimetre, he hooked his pinky around Jun’s little finger.

Jun didn’t pull away like Wonwoo had thought he would— rather he let it linger. Gradually, Wonwoo shifted closer. The tips of his phalanges traced the delicate folds of Jun’s palm. All his fingers slipped into place, weaving into the spaces until he had a feel of the skin of Jun's palm against his own, his thumb brushing over the gentle curve of Jun's thenar eminence.

Wonwoo fleeted his eyes to the side, wanting to deliver a question. But when he caught Jun smiling he didn’t have to ask — he just knew.

Jun’s grip tightened slightly around Wonwoo’s hand, corroborating whatever the latter had hoped for. Jun was done pushing. For the first time, he didn’t fear what was there nor what was coming.

🏹🎯

“Is the bronze medal heading to South Korea?” the commentator said in anticipation.

EIGHT.

The arrow pierced the target just outside the yellow circle. The camera cut to the latest shooter, who wore an expression devoid of disappointment.

“And it stays in Tokyo!”

The archer took a deep breath in complete acceptance of the outcome. He congratulated his opponent, then bowed gratefully to the Korean crowd in the stands. Despite his loss, they erupted in applause, cheered with unwavering support. He acknowledged the crowd with a nod before walking toward the press area.

“It happens,” he said with a wry smile. “But I’ll come back stronger.”

He paused for a moment. His eyes scanned the crowd before him. “I want to thank my family, my friends, and everyone who has been here for me. Your support means the world.”

As the reporters wrapped up their soundbites and the last of them pulled away, Jun approached Hansol with his microphone lowered. He plastered a proud grin on his face. Hansol’s face immediately brightened as he caught him, then jogged over to receive a hug from Jun.

“Jun-hyung, I did good, right?” Hansol asked, searching for some form of affirmation.

“You did great. I’m proud of you.”

“That means a lot, hyung. Thank you for everything,” Hansol let out a sigh of relief. “You were always so patient with me back in university, even when I didn’t get it right. Honestly, I still watch your videos whenever I need inspiration. The way you draw the bow belongs to a gallery.”

Jun shook his head in amusem*nt of the last remark. “If you want to be treated to a meal, you don’t have to flatter me, you know.”

“But it’s true though,” Hansol persisted, “I still watch your videos.”

“I appreciate it,” Jun smiled warmly. “I’m proud of how far you’ve come. You’ve put in so much hard work, developed your own style and talents, and it’s showing. ”

Hansol’s smile widened. “Thank you again, hyung. Let’s shoot at the range again soon?”

Jun escaped a giggle and nodded. “Absolutely. Just let me know when.”

It took a few more exchanges before Hansol was called back to the team bench. Jun found himself smiling, almost bragging about what his junior had achieved.

Wonwoo came over with his camera slung over his shoulder. “That was sweet,” he pestered. “Chwe Hansol practically idolises you, doesn’t he?”

Jun rolled his eyes. “He’s just being polite. But he’s good. He’s grown so much since then.”

“But don’t sell yourself short,” Wonwoo said thoughtfully “You’ve had a big impact on him. You’re a great mentor, Junnie. He looks up to you so much for a reason.”

Jun rolled his eyes and gave Wonwoo a playful jab on the arm lightly.

“Ow!” Wonwoo clutched his arm, wincing like he’d been struck by a sledgehammer instead of something closer to a dap. “It hurts, Junnie.”

Jun almost snorted at the dramatics. “Oh please, you’re fine. You do this all the time.”

Wonwoo sighed then straightened up for a bit. “Okay, okay, maybe I am. But seriously, I think I need to sit down. My back is killing me.”

Jun gave him a knowing look as he led them towards benches. “You’re always saying that these days,” he pointed out.

“I know,” Wonwoo admitted. He eased himself down at one of those chairs with a groan. “But sometimes these camera lenses can get really heavy. That’s why I’ve been doing all this functional strength training.”

Jun glanced over at Wonwoo. “That makes sense. Your shoulders do look broader now.”

“Oh, so you’ve been checking me out, huh?”

Jun leaned back, pretending to consider it his query. “Hmm... maybe,” he responded.

Wonwoo leaned closer and whispered, “Do you want to see the results up close?”

Jun’s eyes raked over Wonwoo’s body, his gaze lingering deliberately before meeting Wonwoo’s eyes with a smirk. “I’d rather feel than just see.”

Wonwoo felt his cheeks seemingly trying to outdo afternoon sun’s toasting. He opened his mouth to respond, yet nothing seemed to come out. Just in the morning two days ago, it would have been Jun scrambling but now it was his brain that was stuttering.

“Cat got your tongue?” Jun remarked as his pitch was low and slow, and definitely taunting.

“I... Where did you learn that?” Wonwoo responded as he forced composure upon himself.

Jun slid his hand onto Wonwoo’s shoulder purposefully to send a shiver down his spine. “Only from the best,” Jun almost purred. “And you did it for a long time too.”

Wonwoo caught himself blinking at the realisation. “Wait, so you did notice it.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure you know you’re not exactly being subtle.”

Before Wonwoo could respond, an older woman with an air of authority appeared to interrupt them. Wonwoo recognised her from the sports broadcasting arm of The Cubic’s parent company.

“Jun, I’m glad I caught you,” she began with a degree of urgency.

“Producer Shin,” Jun greeted her politely as he straightened his posture. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve run into a bit of an issue,” she said. “One of our commentators had a sudden medical situation,” she continued.

“And you want me too…” Jun trailed off as he picked up on the context clues.

Producer Shin confirmed with a nod. “We need you to fill in for the gold medal match. You know how Archery is a big deal for Korea.”

Jun hesitated, his eyes clicked to Wonwoo, who watched the exchange closely. “But why me?” he asked.

“You’re the most qualified person we can ask on short notice,” she replied earnestly. “And don’t worry about your assignment, we’ve already cleared it with Chief Na.”

Jun turned to Wonwoo looking unsure.

“You’ll do great, Jun,” Wonwoo said encouragingly. “I’m sure Soonyoung can handle the uploads and real-time updates. I’ll remind him not to spend too much time staring at Lee Jihoon.”

Jun took a deep breath, his shoulders settled down slightly. “Okay,” he gave a nod in agreement. “I’ll do it.”

Producer Shin led Jun to the commentator’s area, which was well elevated above the archery field. It offered a reasonable view of the targets and competitors. Several desks lined the back wall and as well as various monitors with live feeds from different angles.

As Jun reached the commentator’s desk, he was greeted by today’s partner. She looked up from her notes and her eyes glowed in recognition.

“Jun! Look at you, all grown up,” she exclaimed in astonishment. “You’ve gotten so tall since I last saw you in London.”

Jun smiled back and bowed slightly out of respect. “Joohyun-noona, it’s good to see you.”

Jun took his seat next to Joohyun, who lent him some of her notes which Jun didn’t really need. The arena around them lushed with anticipation for the gold medal match.

“We’re just moments away from the gold medal match in men’s individual archery,” Joohyun began through the microphone, “It’s between Aron Kwak of the United States and Lee Dokyeom of South Korea. Both athletes have fought hard to reach this point, and both are definitely hungry for gold.”

“Aron Kwak, had an incredible run in the ranking rounds, Bronze medalist in rio,” Jun pitched in as the camera cut to the American. “He’s coming into this match as the top seed. Outside of archery, Kwak is a mechanical engineer. It shows in his precise form and consistent technique—very textbook”

“That’s true,” Joohyun agreed. “He’s a shooter who relies on the physics of the sport as much as his instinct.”

As the camera panned to Lee Dokyeom, she continued, “But let’s not forget Lee Dokyeom, South Korea’s pride. World number one also, the reigning world champion. Silver medalist from the 2010 Youth Olympics. This is his second Olympic appearance, and he’s come a long way since Rio.”

Jun watched the archers prepare their shots on the field then through the monitors. “What’s interesting about Lee is that he uses a recurve bow with a slightly higher draw weight than most, giving him that extra bit of velocity and stability in windy conditions like this afternoon.”

Joohyun chimed in with a smile and a bit of a chuckle, “And you’d know that, right, Jun? Afterall you did beat him in the Youth Olympics before.”

Jun let out a subdued laugh. “I was lucky that day. It came down to the last shot. He was on top of his game, as always.”

Joohyun nodded nostalgically. “I remember that. It was one of those matches where you couldn’t look away, not even for a second!”

“Definitely. Lee was relentless,” Jun smiled. “Even as a teenager, he always made it look effortless, but that’s the result of years of discipline and mental training. You can be world number one, but you're only really as good as your current mentality.”

“Absolutely. Maintaining your form under this kind of pressure is what separates the great from the good.”

The archers took their positions and the match began, the commentators watched intently.

NINE.

Kwak’s first shot landed just shy of the ten-ring.

NINE.

Lee’s first arrow flew straight, landing a little left of centre.

“That’s a great start for both archers,” Joohyun noted.

Jun commented, “You can see Kwak making slight adjustments to his grip after that first shot. He’s trying to reset after the initial shot.”

The match continued with both archers trading blows—nines, tens, occasional eights from seventy metres away. Jun and Joohyun kept up a steady commentary, analysing each shot, each adjustment, and every subtle shift in the competitors’ body language including the expression on their faces.

The final set approached and the competitors were neck and neck. Almost everyone was on the edge, including the hundred thousands of viewers on the couches.

Kwak released his final arrow of the set.

TEN.

“Perfect shot,” Joohyun remarked. “But it’s still far from the x.”

Lee stepped up for his final shot.

Jun leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on the target as he adjusted his headset properly. “Lee Dokyeom just needs to draw to secure the win. If he does that, the gold is his.”

The crowd went silent. His draw was smooth, his aim stead then released.

TEN.

The arrow flew straight, inside the ten-ring but centimetre closer to the centre than the last shot.

“And there it is! Lee Dokyeom of Korea has done it!” Joohyun cheered.

“Incredible archery from both competitors,” Jun beamed in admiration. “It takes so much grit to perform at this level. The weight to deliver under pressure—it’s not easy. The focus, passion, and relief that comes after. It reminds you why you fell in love with the sport in the first place.”

As soon as the medals were awarded, Jun and Joohyun said their final greetings to the viewers. Producer Shin came over to send her gratitude.

“Jun, thank you both so much for stepping in. You were fantastic,” Producer Shin said appreciatively.

“Thank you for the opportunity. It was an honour.”

Joohyun turned to Jun. “But Jun, you speak Korean now, and so well too!”

Jun bowed his head modestly. “I’ve been living in Korea for the past few years, actually. So, I’ve had some time to practise.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Joohyun informed him. “I saw someone who looked a lot like you at an archery university meet competing for Yonsei. But it was at the trials a few months back, when I saw you chatting with Junmyeon, that I put two and two together. So, are the rumours true?”

“Rumours?”

“That Junmyeon and Yixing have been trying to get you to train with them.”

“Well… Junmyeon-hyung made an offer,” Jun admitted.

“I figured,” she responded. “I saw you at the training range with Arthur too.”

Jun blinked, a little surprised she knew. “I was just helping out a bit.”

“For someone who has been away for a long time, you still know your stuff. It’s so apparent in your commentary. If you ever decide to come back, I think you’ll surprise a lot of people.”

“Thank you, noona,” he responded with all sincerity.

They exchanged farewells as Joohyun gave him a friendly pat on the back before heading off to the other members of the broadcasting team.

Just as she left, Wonwoo suddenly appeared beside Jun. “You did great, Junnie,” he praised.

“Thank you,” Jun turned to him with a grateful smile then dropped it as the flash nearby reminded them of their original assignment. “But we still have to interview Dokyeom.”

They made their way over to Dokyeom, who was surrounded by his coach, his teammates, as well as other well-wishers. Jun asked the usual questions—how it felt, his thoughts during those intense final shots, and what kept him focused under such pressure.

When they finished, Jun congratulated him again off-script.

“Thanks, Jun,” Dokyeom said with a proud grin. “But just so you know, you’ve always been my source of frustration.

Jun’s eyes widened and scrunched his face in a bit of confusion. “Really? Why?”

Dokyeom tittered. “Because ever since our juniors, I’ve always considered you my greatest rival. You’ve set the bar high, and it’s pushed me to work harder every single day just so I can defeat you.”

“Well, that’s truly an honour.”

“I still want that rematch,” Dokyeom challenged. “It was strange not seeing you in the field after London.”

“Well, I’ve actually missed it, you know.”

“If that’s the case, you should really consider coming back,” Dokyeom raised as he gave a few pats down Jun’s shoulder. “You may have beaten me more times than I care to admit, but I still want to even the score.”

Jun stayed silent, with a lot of thoughts running through his head as Dokyeom excused himself and headed back to join the archery team.

As Jun watched him go, Wonwoo sprouted with some degree of magical timing. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

🏹🎯

Back in their hotel room, Jun sat on his bed. He stared blankly at the floor seemingly trying to make out the material of the carpet and how it matches his thoughts. The room felt like a recording booth, save for the occasional passage of nightlife from the city outside.

Wonwoo emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp from the shower but half dried off courtesy of the blower. A towel slung loosely around his neck while he wore a white t-shirt. Immediately he noticed Jun’s wandering expression.

“Hey,” Wonwoo said, walking over to Jun. “Are you tired? You did a lot of work today.”

Jun snapped out of his daze. “Kind of,” he admitted, offering a weary smile. “But it was fun.”

Wonwoo placed a hand gently on Jun’s head, ruffling his hair in that comforting way. “You did well today,” he said. Instead of moving to his bed, Wonwoo plopped himself down beside Jun on the same bed. He was close enough so their shoulders nearly stuck against each other.

Jun turned to look at Wonwoo. “Have you ever been to Paris?”

“I have, but only for work. Never really had the chance to explore. Just quick visits, in and out. I went to the Eiffel Tower and The Louvre but that’s about it,” Wonwoo chuckled.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to go to Paris?”

“I think it might be. I mean it seems like a beautiful city. You can also grab some decent kouign-amanns. Why? Are you thinking about going?”

“I could do that too, a change in scenery would be nice” Jun said slowly, his gaze drifting to the window. “But something else too…”

Wonwoo straightened up. “Do you mean?”

Jun sighed deeply as his shoulders tensed up quickly. “I’ve been thinking,” he confessed. “It seems like I haven’t given up on that dream yet. Maybe I won’t win, or even make it onto the national team.”

“Junnie…”

“But I don’t know… it feels like I’ve been running away from it for so long, but it’s always there. Especially now here surrounded by everything, it’s like making me think of what could have been.”

“Maybe it’s not about what could have been,” Wonwoo suggested as he caressed Jun’s temples. “Maybe it’s about what still can be.”

“You really think so?”

“Junnie,” Wonwoo began, “whatever you decide to do, I’ll be here for you. I believe in you.”

“Thank you for always being there,” Jun said as he let his cheeks simmer at Wonwoo’s words. “Even when I don’t always show it, it really means a lot to me.”

Wonwoo smiled like the feel of a breeze near the sea. “You take care of everyone around you, Jun. More than you give yourself credit for. You’ve always been a source of strength, not just for me, but for everyone who knows you.”

“I don’t know if I’m even half as strong as you say,” he murmured. “But I want you to know you’re very important to me. Even if I don’t always express it well, thank you.”

“Junnie,” Wonwoo shifted closer and moved his hand on Jun’s shoulder contemplatively.

“Hmm?” Jun responded as he turned his face to Wonwoo, who just happened to be less than a finger’s length away from him. Jun caught a whiff of the hotel’s mouthwash. Peppermint. A few seconds later his eyes widened as he tasted it.

Jun hadn’t expected how soft Wonwoo’s lips were, nor it being warm enough to make it seem like he was melting. Wonwoo hadn’t anticipated either that Jun would relax and then tighten his fingers through Wonwoo’s locks. He almost drew back immediately back initially. After all, it was a moment of rashness. But he couldn’t. He absolutely doesn’t want to. Especially not after seemingly waiting for forever. Instead, he wanted more of it.

Wonwoo’s mind flashed back to that moment. He remembered the way Jun had pulled away. He recalled the disappointment he’d felt then. He was slapped with doubt that had crept in. Did Jun even feel a fraction of what he did? Was it just in his head?

“I—” Wonwoo started, his voice trembling slightly in between. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Jun opened his eyes and then pulled back slightly. “Why are you apologising?” he asked as gently as the outside wind. “Was it that bad?”

Wonwoo stared at him. Jun’s eyes were shining under the warm lights of the night lamp. His confused expression was so lovely that somehow Wonwoo had to quell it. “No,” he responded in a whisper as he laced his fingers with Jun. “Not at all, Junnie… it’s just… is it real?”

“Every bit of it,” Jun assured, pouring all into it.

Wonwoo’s breath tangled in his smile. It’s happening. He could hardly believe it’s not in his dreams. His hand made its way right to the concavity of Jun’s spine and pulled him closer. “Can I do it again?” he requested.

Jun answered first. He inched a lot closer that his lips pressed to Wonwoo’s in harmonious conversation. Wonwoo almost wanted to chew as he nibbled on Jun’s lower lip and was pushed down further. The kiss was slowly getting deeper, and soon enough, scattered to bare skin all over.

Jun dug his fingers down the slopes of Wonwoo’s shoulders through every contour of his muscles. “Well, we’re doing it,” he teased with a grin. “I have to say, I honestly didn’t think you’d be lusting over me like this.”

“Who wouldn’t? You’re gorgeous,” Wonwoo replied as he let out a tender chuckle. “But Junnie… you do know, right?”

Like a loose arrow, Jun felt his heart wobble. He brought his hand up to caress Wonwoo’s hair. His fingers thread through the dark strands carefully. Then he planted another kiss, deep, intense with all sincerity causing Wonwoo to whimper.

“I told you,” Jun whispered against his breath. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Of course,” Wonwoo conceded then sunk his face on Jun’s chest as they continued to be all over each other. Wonwoo took a good look at Jun before rolling him down to continue devouring. Soon enough, Wonwoo found himself pressed against Jun’s back as his fingers continued to drum through the groves and the curves until things fell into action.

When everything was finished, Wonwoo didn’t let go. Instead, he tightened his grip on Jun’s hand, pulling him closer until their bodies were flush against each other. The warmth of Wonwoo’s skin made Jun feel as grounded as ever. His head rested against Wonwoo’s chest, listening to how his heart was pacing.

“Wonwoo,” Jun started quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Do you remember that man we ran into the other day?”

Wonwoo’s brows furrowing slightly as he recalled the encounter. “Yeah, I remember. Wasn’t he the Chinese national team’s head coach?”

“Yeah... that was him,” Jun admitted. “But he’s also my father.”

“Your father?” Wonwoo echoed softly. He was surprised. Afterall, Jun had never shown any picture of him and barely even mentioned him.

Jun’s gaze drifting to the night lamp as he gathered his thoughts. “Yeah, we haven’t spoken in a long time. We had a big falling out back then when I refused to come back to China, and since then, we’ve barely been in contact.”

Wonwoo kept caressing the back of Jun’s hair, fraying out the strands even further. “I’m sorry, Junnie. That must’ve been really tough.”

“It was,” Jun admitted. “But when he asked to talk, it seemed... sincere. Like he was genuinely trying to reach out.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I don’t know,” Jun said, tinged with uncertainty. “Maybe. He said he wants to be back in my life. He wants to know more about the people who are important to me. That’s why he wants to meet you.”

“Me?” Wonwoo asked, his eyes slightly bubbled up as his hands halted abruptly. “Are you okay with that?”

“I think so. It’s just... I’m not sure what to expect. I do feel that he’s sincere, but it’s going to take time.”

Wonwoo’s hand pulled Jun’s nape even closer. He slid it gently, caressing the back of it as if providing something warmer than the blankets. “If you need time, take it. You don’t have to rush it.”

Jun's gaze drifted up to meet Wonwoo’s. “Thank you. I guess I’m just worried.”

“One step at a time,” Wonwoo said as he turned his voice down lower, sweeter. “There’s no rush. And if he wants to meet me anywhere, I’ll be there. For you.”

Jun’s chest felt like a candle came in the winter. On top of that, his back seemed a little lighter. “I’ve also been thinking about reaching out to Junmyeon-hyung and Yixing-gē once we’re back.”

Wonwoo's hand gently sauntered along Jun’s nape. “They’d be lucky to have you, Junnie.”

Jun shifted his eyes up to meet Wonwoo’s, biting his lip for a second in hesitation. “But if I do this, it means being away a lot. Competitions, training camps...”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Wonwoo pressed a kiss to the top of Jun’s crowning glory. “I’ll be with you whenever I can, you know that. And when I can’t be there physically, I’ll be cheering you on from wherever I am. You need to go show the world who you are, Junnie. But just make sure you come back to me.”

“Okay, I promise.” Jun whispered back. “Wait for me.”

“Always.”

🏹🎯

“It’s the Youth Olympics rematch fourteen years later,” the commentator’s voice crackled through. “Wen Junhui of China versus gold medalist at Tokyo, Lee Dokyeom of Korea”

The camera panned to Jun, his face spoke of calm intensity, and then to Dokyeom, whose focused gaze was locked on.

Behind them, the majestic backdrop stretched out fashionably. The puddling iron tower loomed like it was the world's most well-known coat rack. Nearby, the vast golden-trimmed dome of a valid building meant for invalids shone in the afternoon sun. The tension in the air was thick like a slab of brioche, and the entire arena held its breath, waiting to witness triumph, disaster, or something else. The faintest breeze fluttered through the flags overhead, adding even more intensity.

“Wen Junhui has had quite an interesting trajectory,” the co-commentator added. “He disappeared from the international archery scene for several years. Then, just at the Tokyo Olympics, he suddenly reappeared with a media pass.”

“There was a lot of speculation about where he’d been and what he’d been doing,” the other commentator continued. “Turns out he’s just been in college in Korea.”

“Yes, quite. Started training again right after Tokyo with Zhang Yixing in Seoul. Never finished off-podium in all but his first competition after.”

"And now here he is in Paris, down to a tie-breaker against his old rival at juniors,” the co-commentator added with much anticipation. “Both archers have given such stellar performance, but now it all comes down to this final shot. One arrow each—the closest to the centre wins."

Lee Dokyeom drew his bowstring back, the string taut against his face. Dokyeom’s eyes were unyielding. He released and the arrow flew with a graceful arc.

TEN. The arrow struck just a centimetre shy of the X, close to the very centre of the target.

The commentators cheered, "That’s almost perfect!”

“Indeed. The pressure now on Wen. It is astronomical. The question now is can he?”

Jun stepped to the line. His face was at peace, like he was out for a leisurely stroll at the nearby park instead. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, his fingers clutched against the bowstring and drew. The motion was fluid, artful— almost like he’ll be called up by the riverbank museums.

In one smooth release, the arrow flew. As it travelled, the world held its breath.

TEN.

The crowd fell into a collective gasp as the arrow landed. Flawless. At the very centre of the x.

“And he did it! Absolutely perfect!” the commentator exclaimed.

“Wen Junhui of China is your Olympic champion in Paris!” added the other in awe. “What an incredible display of skill under immense pressure!”

Jun stood there in pure disbelief as his teammates and coaching team rushed over to shake him. Even the former head coach who was typically stoic wasn’t at all composed. Jun was still processing what had happened. His eyes darted around as if searching for something to bring him to this reality. He turned and caught sight of the media pit. A man as tall as him had his face alight, beaming more than he did. His camera now lowered as his eyes almost glistened. The sight seemed to ground him, and at that moment, it began to sink in.

Jun bowed deeply, a full 90 degrees, in gratitude to the fans. Then, without a second thought, he made his way straight to the area with reporters.

“What just happened?” Jun asked, still shaken by the events.

Wonwoo reached out and stroked Jun’s hair gently. “You did it, Junnie,” he said tenderly, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Jun sank into it. He won. It hit him.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

🏹🎯

“So, how was Paris?” Chan asked with a grin, leaning casually against a desk at The Cubic’s office.

Wonwoo looked up from his computer in recognition of the question. “It was good,” he said. “Beautiful.”

“Oh yeah? Beautiful, huh?” Jeonghan said mischievously. “Because that gold medal match in archery was something.”

Seungcheol snickered, jumping in. “Yeah, like planting a big kiss on the gold medalist.”

“On live television, no less!”

The group erupted into laughter, while Mingyu elbowed Wonwoo. “What happened to national loyalty, huh? You were clearly not rooting for Lee Dokyeom in that final!”

Wonwoo shook his head. “It’s Jun though,” he said, shrugging as if that explained everything.

Jeonghan grinned. “I mean, aren’t you supposed to be impartial? Media neutrality?”

“Media neutrality is a myth anyway,” Wonwoo shot back. “Besides, would you all rather have it if Jun lost?”

The office fell into a brief silence. They exchanged quick, sheepish glances, as well as murmurs that made them sound like a herd as they were caught off-guard by the question.

Seungcheol cleared his throat. “Well, Korea loves Jun too, you know.”

“Yeah, at the end of the day we’re all just fans of the sport.”

Wonwoo scoffed at their attempt to backtrack. “Sure, sure.”

“Paris is the city of love indeed,” Soonyoung chimed in.

“It is,” Wonwoo supported, deferring towards his senior colleague instead. “I’m certain Jeonghan here is already looking forward to 2028.”

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Jeonghan responded but the nonchalance gave away his awareness.

Wonwoo pressed on. “I’m sure you’re not cheering for the Korean foil fencer in that podium match either, especially when they’re up against someone from the next city hosting.”

Soonyoung added, “Not when you’re out with an American in Paris.”

“Joshuji?”

A chorus of “Oooohhs” from the staffers catched on to a rare slip.

“Joshuji?” Someone repeated the same melody.

“Did you just call him Joshuji?”

“Alright, alright.” Jeonghan's face turned a light shade of red, but he kept his composure. “If you keep this up, I’ll have to start spilling some of your secrets.” His eyes narrowed as if he was deciding who to pick on first.

There was a collective inhale as everyone knew that Jeonghan may or may not have meant it. Sometimes he bluffs, most times he doesn’t. A moment later someone raised their hand in surrender. “Okay. We’ll drop it for now.”

“But Wonwoo, I can’t believe you’d make out on camera,” Soonyoung quipped.

“We weren’t making out,” Wonwoo countered without missing a beat. “It was a perfectly normal kiss. It’s not my fault they zoomed in and slowed it down.”

“But everyone in the world still saw that.”

“Is it really everyone, though?” Wonwoo quipped, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, considering the viewership for archery compared to gymnastics or swimming…”

“Do you know how popular ‘your Junnie’ is, right?” a co-worker shot back. “He’s everywhere! I saw his face on an ad for a milk tea chain, and there’s that line of smelling oils and pain relief patches too.”

“Not to mention,” another chimed in, “the people over at fashion said he’s being wooed by a house in Paris. ”

“Oh, I know,” Wonwoo replied confidently. He was sure he knew more than everyone else in that room. “And he’s going on a variety show next week, too.”

Just then, the door to the office swung open as, and erupted into enthusiastic applause and congratulations, everyone crowding around Jun, who just entered the room with Seungkwan who helped him carry some paper bags with goods.

Jun smiled, slightly overwhelmed but happy. “I brought these back for you all,” he announced. “Since someone,” he glanced at Wonwoo, “forgot them at home.’”

“We’ve missed you so much, Jun!” Mingyu said with a grin. “And can you believe how greedy Wonwoo’s been, keeping you all to himself?”

Wonwoo scrunched his eyebrows in apparent disapproval. “Greedy? Me? I’m just—”

“Oh, come on, Wonwoo,” someone else teased. “Don’t pretend you’re not hogging Jun all the time.”

Before Wonwoo can try to defend himself further, Jun’s squeezed on his arm to melt him. “I guess I am a bit greedy,” Wonwoo conceded, smiling as he took Jun’s hand in his.

“It seems like just yesterday you were always here, Jun,” someone remarked. “And you guys were ‘just friends’ or whatever it was you insisted.”

“Yeah! Then you go to Tokyo, and suddenly you’re all holding hands as soon as you exit the building!”

“Jun didn’t even flinch anymore when we referred to you as his boyfriend.”

Jun’s thoughts drifted back to a time when he had tried to dismiss how much Wonwoo affected him. In the same manner, Wonwoo was trying to show more than say anything. He had been patient, waiting and hoping for the day when it finally aligned for them.

“Well, there was nothing to deny after Tokyo,” Jun said. “A lot has changed since then.”

“By the way, I saw the post,” Chan chimed in smirking. “So… when’s the wedding?”

“The ceremony will definitely be before LA,” Jun said with a comfortable ease.

“Make sure to send us an invitation, okay?” someone piped up.

“Oh, please, you think we’d forget?” Jun replied, half-smiling. “Make sure you’ll all come all though.”

Soonyoung jumped in immediately. “I’m the best man, right? I mean, who else could it be?” He shot a glance at Wonwoo, eyebrows raised knowingly. “You remember what I did for you?”

“Yes, yes, you’re the best man,” Wonwoo conceded with a hint of thankfulness to it. “Trust me, I owe you more than a few.”

Jun chuckled. “You really think you could get rid of Soonyoung? He’d find a way to sneak in even if we didn’t invite him.”

“You bet I would!” Soonyoung grinned. “By the way are plus ones allowed?”

Jun raised an eyebrow at the question. “Jihoon’s already on the guest list.”

“Just making sure.” Soonyoung’s grin grew wider. “You know how he is — if it wasn’t recorded it didn’t happen or something something.”

The group was sent into a chorus of laughter. Well aware of the events that transpired between them. Soonyoung had spent so much time hovering around Jihoon. Bothering him so much that his crush was painfully obvious to everyone but Jihoon himself—or so they thought until it was Jihoon who eventually made the first move.

“But seriously, Jun,” Jeonghan interjected tuning his tone to that of curiosity, “are you planning on picking up another gold at the next Olympics?”

“We’ll see,” Jun just smiled, but at the back of his mind it was more like a work-in-progress.

“Did you see it, though?” Seungkwan piped up with excitement. “You’ve gone viral again!”

“That video of you ‘trying out’ archery with Arthur Chuan almost tripled in views,” Mingyu shared.

“Yeah, people have a lot of things to say about me too,” he replied, keeping his tone thoughtful. “Some people just don’t know when to quit.”

Chan leaned in. “But a lot of people love you, Jun.”

“I know,” Jun smiled warmly, appreciating the support from his colleagues. “I’ve learned to tune out the noise and focus on what matters. There will always be critics, but there are so many people out there who believe in me, and that's what matters.”

Wonwoo flashed Jun a proud look. After all, he prides himself as the lead cheerleader.

Jun scanned around the room before continuing. “Anyway, I’m going to have to borrow Wonwoo from you all for a week or so. We’re heading to Beijing. I need to handle some things with the federation and visit my parents’ new restaurant.”

“I heard Coach Wen is really enjoying his retirement,” Jeonghan wondered.

“He is. He’s trying out a lot of new things, enjoying life more than I’ve ever seen.”

The catching up continued. Evidently, The Cubic had missed Jun. It had been two years since he was part of the payroll. Jun moved easily through the crowd, exchanging hugs and anecdotes, as well as teasing and banters. As the conversation began to wind down, Wonwoo signalled to his watch to remind Jun of a reservation. Jun glanced up and understood.

He made his way towards the door, exchanging goodbyes and well-wishes. As Jun almost reached the exit, Seungcheol called out, “Hey, Jun, any plans on coming back to The Cubic?”

Jun paused thoughtfully. He turned to Wonwoo, who was out by the corridor, relaxed, unhurried before he made his statement. “If you think about it, it’s not like I ever really left.”

And in truth, he never had.

As soon as they exited the building, Jun squeezed Wonwoo’s hand a little tighter in a familiar gesture. They walked in silence for a while, as the city provided a familiar buzz to their enjoyment.

“You know,” Jun began, “you could have gone down first.”

“Nah. That wouldn’t be right,” Wonwoo returned.

Jun brushed his lips to Wonwoo’s cheek, then puckered which sent the latter into a tingle.

For a moment, Wonwoo misremembered how to use his accessory muscles. “What was that for?” he asked.

“Just because,” Jun replied. “Thank you for waiting.”

“You know I’d wait for you forever if I had to,” Wonwoo affirmed.

“I know,” Jun said, warmer than how the currents were blowing. “And that’s why I’m so lucky.”

“I think I’m the lucky one though,” Wonwoo grinned through. “Besides, you always kept your promise.”

“I told you I would,” Jun responded. “I’ll always come back to you.”