zero degrees

not me scrambling to get this blog up and running last minute asdhsjdh — anyways, hi ! i’m euni and this is raon, sassy disenfranchised figure skating prodigy who’s got hella repressed imposter syndrome or smthn. you can find more about my boy and some wanted plots under the cut ,, ok yea bye see y’all on discord ✨ ( or ims too if that’s what you prefer ☃️ )

( ... )

In all honesty, she didn’t need the pair of sunnies whatsoever. But (until today) she hadn’t met anyone on the twin islands who had challenged her over anything at Graciegrace. Hailey wasn’t sure what it was, but she just wanted them, plain and simple. And what she wants, she gets. 

he wonders if he’s done something to piss off whatever god was calling all the shots in his life. there’s no way he was so unlucky as to run into something like this at a time when everything seemed to matter most. maybe he’ll have to look into how karma works later, or at least fix whatever was messing up his mojo, or whatever. 

he turns to face her, to get a real good look at exactly what he’s dealing with. what he sees doesn’t scare him. which is perhaps the reason why the best he could do to entertain her is roll his eyes and utter a very coherent, oh so eloquent “—really ?” by the looks of it, she didn’t even seem that much older than him. she had, maybe, a year or two on him at most ( but clearly that meant nothing in terms of added maturity, no ? ) “if you’re gonna play the kiddo card at least act your age then, honey.” 

raon watches in disbelief as she continues her attempts at swaying the sales rep. if the universe was going to mess with him, the least it could’ve done is grant him the patience to play along with it’s games. fortunately ( or not ) for him, raon was gifted a competitive streak. losing wasn’t something he was used to, and he sure wasn’t going to start learning today. 

fine, two can play at this game.

“excuse me ? you saw though, i was here first so technically those sunglasses belong to me. that’s how good business works,” he says to the sales rep. a part of him almost feels bad, they probably don’t get paid enough to deal with problematic customers like her. but hey, he’s got to play the hand he’s been dealt. to the girl he adds, “i know this may be hard for you to wrap your pretty little head around, but ever heard of first come, first serve ? that’s how we do things around here. just thought you should know.”

family dinners were never an excruciating thing for him. raon’s lucky, he supposes, to be able to partake in semi-normal mealtime dynamics with his parents every night. it’s not a luxury all have and he knows it. family dinners with the shims, though, was another story.

he doesn’t mind her. for example, when the realization hits at around late afternoon that it was one of those sundays, the thought of sharing banchan and split second glances across the dinner table with jieun later that evening doesn’t pain him. but, he’d be lying to say he looks forward to listening to their parents chat away while he tries not to fall asleep in his seat. it’s fortunate, then, that he has years of experience under his belt when it comes to doing exactly that. 

tonight seems to have more in store for him when his mom suddenly realizes ( just as she’s finished setting the table too — her timing has always been nothing short of impeccable. ) they’ve run out of lettuce and are a couple onions short. so of course, raon is quickly pushed out the door with his jacket hastily thrown over his hoodie, hands in his pockets, and shoes that haven’t even been pulled over his heels properly. the punchline: jieun-ah you shouldn’t make raon go all by himself ! 

and that’s how he ends up here: falling into step with jieun as they walk wordlessly in the direction of the nearest grocery store. ( he tries but fails. the sound of his footsteps are constantly a beat behind hers. it’s easier to just give up. ) usually, he wouldn’t mind the silence, but there’s just something so unnerving about it all — raon can’t even remember the last time the two of them had a full conversation. sparing a quick glance to the side, he knows that between the two of them, if any ice were to be broken, he would have to see to it himself. ( that’s fine, he’s comfortable maneuvering on ice anyways. ) 

he rips it off like a band-aid, quick. “so, are we just gonna keep walking in silence, or what ?” he asks not menacingly, but nonchalantly. it was more of an observation, if anything. but, see ? that wasn’t completely painless, but it wasn’t so bad either. 

( ... )

             without  thinking  twice,  the   elder  copies  the  movement  of  his  arms,  ❝  i  almost  forgot.  stretching’s  important,  huh?  don’t  you  stretch  your  legs  and   center,  too?  or  is  that  done  on  the  ice?  ❞  before  giving   raon  the  opportunity  to  reply,  she  continues,  ❝  yes,  i’m   stalling.  before  i  go  out  there,  let’s  establish  that  you’re   not  allowed  to  laugh  at  me!  ❞  offering  an  outstretched  pinky, she  wiggles  it  before  him,  ❝  promise  you  won’t.  ❞

“well, i’m flattered there’s no one else you would rather wait for and learn how to fall on your ass from,” he says cheekily. of course, it’s all in good fun. there’s no one who butters him up quite as much as byul, but for that he’s appreciative ( even if it’s something that has always had a hard time making it’s way out of his mouth and known to her. )

“damn, you need me to teach you how to tie your laces too ? this is gonna be harder than i thought,” he holds open the door that separates the warm waiting area from the rink for her, gesturing at her to walk, or rather awkwardly stomp, inside. “you know they say you gotta fall a few times before you can get good. looks like all your star stuff and clumsiness will be useful after all then, noona.”

her nervous ramblings fall on amused ears as he observes her talking every which way. it helps with the tension weighing on his own mind, seeing the turmoils of a beginner. it feels like those days have long escaped him, but maybe with her, he can relive some of that novelty ( vicariously, of course. ) “right, see ? you’re one step ahead of me,” he sits himself down on the carpet, a few steps away from the glass door that leads directly onto the ice. “alright, follow along. this is the stretching routine of champions.”

and as he goes through the well rehearsed motions of warming up his muscles, he can feel the tension being released not just from his body, but also his mind. it doesn’t melt off of him completely, but there’s no denying that being here with her — with her eyes that beam and smile that drips all things happy, bright, and sweet — some of his apprehensions have started to chip away.

( baby steps. )

“you’re ridiculous,” a smirk stretches onto his lips, but he links his pinky with hers anyways. “i’ll try not to laugh too hard,” he hums as he stands up, fully facing the ice this time. “ok, no more stalling. are you ready now ?”

( ... )

which is what finds her making a detour at the docks to the sushi restaurant his family runs, instead of the roost’s, as is their usual. it doesn’t really matter where they hang out, after all, it’s the friendship that counts. they’ve managed to keep in touch from seoul to starden, so what’s the difference between the roost and sorae’s? silly family drama aside, there’s something about raon that just clicks right to her, and she’s come to find she appreciates his friendship as more than just the cool, fun kid from the islands she’d thought he’d been when they first met.

“hey!” she pops into the restaurant and heads over to the counter, grinning up at her much taller friend. “you couldn’t make it, so,” seonmi flips her hair, “i came to you!”

time has a way of slipping from him it seems. busy nights like these at sorae’s are, of course, good for the family business ( for his pockets too ) but something’s gotta give. in this case, it was his usual coffee dates with seonmi. unfortunate as it may seem, they’ve got plenty more scheduled for who knows how long to come. she wouldn’t mind, right ?

wrong.

“seonmi ! you’re here,” he exclaims in between the aggressive punching of the numbers on the register’s keypad. ( fickle thing, really. the keys have been getting more and more sticky these days. ) “sorry for cancelling on you,” he gives a knowing glance at the rowdy dining room, “full house tonight.” in a way, he’s glad she’s here. seeing a friendly face during a patience-draining-type shift was always welcome — even if he did have to look quite a ways down to see it clearly. 

shifting his attention from the blonde, raon gives a tight lipped smile to the ahjusshi impatiently waiting for his receipt before making his way around from behind the counter and leading her to an empty table in the corner. “here, take a seat,” he says as his hands absentmindedly pull out her chair before sliding into the one directly across, if only to rest his aching calves for just a moment. “did you eat dinner yet ? i can ask my mom to whip up something for you.”

( ... )

somehow, his thoughts have completely fazed him from a nearing set of footsteps. the front door swings open in that carefree fashion raon embodies. they look at one another for a lasting moment until the older boy’s eyes drift toward the newly bleached mop of hair, an unreadable expression on his face.

“hey. man.” 

he hears the familiar drumming of knuckles on weathered wood and it’s autopilot from there — the way his legs carry him from the comfort of his bed, down the stairs, and to the front door. he doesn’t even need to see the person standing on the other side. on an unassuming day such as this, raon knows not many would be seeking his company other than, “ilhu—woah. oh my god, your hair !” 

the door is flung all the way open now, carelessly. clearly, there are much more important matters at hand. namely, the fact that im ilhui ( the sweet, bug-loving, timid im ilhui that he knew and loved ) was now platinum blonde. in all their years together, raon feels as if he’s been barely able to get hui to change his wardrobe, let alone go to such drastic measures as to bleach his hair. perhaps, this takes a little jab at his pride, but no matter, he’ll get over it ( eventually. )

ushering his friend inside, he leads the way up the creaky stairs and into his room. “the chicken i ordered for us should be here soon,” he says as he plops onto the bed with a thud, belly first ( an old habit, really. ) before propping his chin in his hands. the look he gives hui is nothing short of mirthful. raon doesn’t know what it is, but something about the spontaneity of it all has him giddy and relishing for more. call it vicarious living, maybe ? all he knows is that he could definitely get used to this version of the boy before him. 

“so tell me,” he begins, all wide grins and curious eyes, “what possessed you to do this ?” 

   ( ... )     

            and that was when he practically ran into ha raon — the boy he had basically accepted as his second younger brother years ago when he was just a child himself. what the hell was he doing here? the last time they had seen each other raon wasn’t even old enough to drink or drive and now he was at a club? it was an extremely weird concept. “ it’s okay — raon, is that you?” sungho asked in disbelief, trying to make out the other’s face in the darkness. it was him. fucking hell.

his attention is piqued when his name falls from the seemingly not-so-unfamilliar stranger’s mouth. eyes squinting, it takes every last functioning neuron in his brain to put the blurry ( drunk ) pieces together. but the moment the stranger’s eyes, nose, and lips come together to form the picture he can only label as lee sungho, raon blinks twice to make sure this isn’t just the aftermath of the shots he’s been downing. 

“sungho hyung ?” he asks, still confused, but deep down he knew there was no denying it. sure, the hair is a little different, and maybe the piercings have been rearranged, but it’s him all the same. “what are you doing here ?”

truth be told, he’s not oblivious to the whispers going around town. news of the elder boy’s failure and return wasn’t a complete surprise to him. yet, there was a wall of denial built and promptly erected upon hearing these rumors. surely, this was just silly gossip, right ? it was safer for him ( for his boyish hopes and dreams ) to believe so. the sungho they speak of isn’t his sungho — the twin islands’ golden boy wonder, and more. 

seeing him here though, in the flesh, raon’s not sure what to believe. even under all the tipsy haze, he can feel a part of himself deflating upon the realization that this is how they’re meeting after so many years. no letters, no phone calls, not even a “hey, i’m back in town !” whatever, it’s not that deep ( or at least, that’s what he’ll tell himself for now. ) 

now, the music is still pulsing in his ears. liquid courage runs rampantly through his veins. he’s here for only one reason, and it’s not to reminisce on has been’s or could be’s. “damn, this music is lowkey boppin’ tonight.” he gathers himself as he knows best and puts on a dumb smile. “you wanna drink or something, hyung ?”

( ... )

             the  sight  before  her  hurts  and  feels  all  wrong;  his  face  and  body  language  giving  off  the  impression  that  he  doesn’t  want   to  be  here;  not  really.  but  there’s  no  going  back,  she tells  herself.  ❝  anyway,  thanks  for  humoring  me,  but  let  me   warn  you  that  you’ve  got  your  work  cut  out  for  you.  imagine   the  worst  person  you’ve  ever  seen  on  the  ice  and  then  multiply  that  by  ten  fold—i’m  even  worse  than  that.  ❞  her  gaze  falls  downcast  with  a  pout,  two  pointers  gesturing   towards  her  poorly  laced  skates,  ❝  i’ve  been  tying  my  shoes   almost  as  long  as  you’ve  been  alive,  so  why  can’t  i  get   these  right?  and  why  do  they  hurt  so  much?  ❞

punctuality was never really his thing. there’s something about walking into a room fashionably late that just — satiates him. nonetheless, he can’t help but chuckle a little at byul’s comment. “you know me, i’m always late,” he singsongs. “but i know it’s cause you don’t mind.”

since the day he put the golden gleam in his eyes to rest, he’s been on the ice less for sure. it’s no easy task, though, to quit what was your entirety cold turkey. and so, the competition prep is traded for recreation; the hours he spent alone, drawing patterns on icy surfaces is replaced with the sound of youthful giggles and bright, hopeful eyes that used to resemble his very own. raon underestimated how difficult it would be to teach kids to skate when he initially signed up, but if there’s anything to be gained from it, surely byul would be first to reap the benefits, right ?

“well, it’s your lucky day, noona. you’re gonna be learning from the very best, if i do say so myself.” ah, there he goes again. ha raon, ever the humble. “for real though, if i can teach dozens of five year olds to skate, i can teach you. you’ll be fine,” he adds as some sort of reassurance.

he doesn’t need to look at her skates to know where the root of her complaints stem. “it’s cause with skates, you gotta lace them up by criss crossing them around these metal hooks up here,” kneeling, his fingers quickly work to fix the laces on her feet before he proceeds to put on his own. 

as he stands back up, a sigh can’t help but escape his lips. a sign of mental preparation, if you will. he swings his arms back and forth ( it’s an old, warm up habit. ) once before setting his eyes on the door to the rink. it’s now or never, he supposes. “ok, are you ready ? let’s go.” 

( ... )

“Oh, sweetie. I just know that we’re not trying to buy the same pair of sunglasses right now.” Her lower lip now jutted out into a pout in an attempt to persuade the other to turn right around and leave. “Besides, I think we both know how good I would look in them, right? It’d be a missed opportunity for me not to buy them.”

humble origins maketh man, they say. seeing your name dancing in lights every which way, however, quickly ruins that resolve. or at least it does for the likes of raon. he wouldn’t consider himself flashy, ( financial realities grip him tight, anchoring him to the ground. ) but it’d be a lie to say he doesn’t have a penchant for brands and price tags that are perhaps a bit out of his reach.

the resolution ? a few extra hours at sorae’s, and maybe a couple of favors here and there are enough to align the numbers in this bank account with that of “— the limited edition blackout sunglasses from graciegrace ! you don’t understand, hui. i need them. anyways, i’m here. talk to you later,” the phone call ends aburptly, all pleasantries flying out the window as the shiny display comes into view.

beauty, he thinks, is everything falling into place as he nods absentmindedly at the sales attendant informing him that this is in fact the last pair they have on stock. it’s a hopeless cause, really. he’s long gone by now, off in a place where nothing else seems to matter. reality makes an appearance via the sound of heels clicking across tiles and logic raon can only describe as silly. 

turning, he gives the girl a quick once over. her haughty voice and pouty lips do nothing to stifle his scoff. “cute,” arms crossing, he can’t help but smirk pettily. “whatever it is you’re trying to do here, princess, it’s not working.” 

he gives a knowing gaze to the attendant, hoping they’re on the same page of who’s in the right. raon doesn’t want to even want to entertain the thought of what he would do if he doesn’t walk out of the store with significantly lighter pockets. “get lost,” he deadpans with his back towards her now, eyes glued only to the sunglasses as if they would disappear if he did so much as blink. “i was here first.” 

the trek to the rink is more than familiar at this point. though, it would be a lie to say it doesn’t feel at least a little different these days. the vibe’s just off. even the weight of the skates slung over his back rests a little strangely between his shoulder blades, like they’re slightly out of place or something. no matter, he’s probably just reading into things too much.

it does cross his mind, briefly, but long enough to have some sort of significance: why she insisted on wanting to learn how to skate of all things. it reminds him too much of an interaction he’d rather forget. the way the light in her eyes faded just a bit when he told her the news upon her return. the slight dip in her tone of voice. raon notices more than he lets on. 

( disappointment stings. )

a turn of the corner has the gray concrete building coming into view. ah, yes. this is where he spent his youth — chasing golden dreams and lofty goals, or what have you. good times, no ? once inside, he spots the shiny hair gathered in a high ponytail first. the puffy jacket and idle fidgeting come into view later. her back is to him, but he doesn’t need to see much more to know that it’s—

“—byul noona !” he calls, closing the distance between the two of them. “you’re early for class, i see.” 

yeah so according to the gen z handbook, getting wasted at 1:00 am on a friday or saturday night is so — basic. which is why he’s here, on a thursday, watching in amusement as the neon lights above draw patterns onto all of club lol’s surfaces. his phone blearily tells him it’s barely 10:00 pm. the night is still young ! and yet, the warm haziness of one too many drinks is already starting to get the best of him. it’s funny, really, the way his alcohol tolerance seems to be defaulting back to his more, dare he say, juvenile days, but maybe that’s something he’ll deal with in the morning. 

( he downs another shot. ) 

looking around, he has half the mind to wonder what exactly it is he’s doing here, alone, since none of his friends were up for making memories neither of them would remember. but raon stops himself in his mental tracks. he’s not here to think — he’s here for quite the opposite. so, in true ha raon fashion, he pushes these thoughts into the very back of his mind, choosing instead to focus on the blaring rhythm of the bass as he stands up haphazardly from his seat at the bar. 

“oops,” he slurs, eyes half closed as he grins at the silliness of it all. of course, just when he was about to get onto the dance floor to have some fun, his body decides now that it’s going to give into the bitter alcohol he’s been poisoning it with. typical. “sorry, my bad,” he says as he rubs at the sore spot on his shoulder that had just collided with — his eyes try to focus on the victim of his drunken clumsiness, but to no avail. god, why isn’t anything working right now ?