#tenderlove

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✢⠀𓈒⠀ ֹ⠀⠀⠀a private starter⠀⠀⸺⠀⠀for @tenderlove ! ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ moon siwan appreciates you. ♡

⠀⠀⠀⊹ ࣪ ˖⠀⠀⠀the rink still sounds the same — steel blades against ice, a distant coach's whistle, the hum of fluorescent lights that never sound loud enough until everything else falls quiet. siwan stands just near the entrance, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, letting the familiar cold air settle over him before he takes any other step forward. he didn't really plan this — or he actually did, maybe. the thought had been sitting somewhere in the back of his mind for weeks, resurfacing whenever work brought him anywhere near this part of the city. it became one of those quiet promises people tend to make to themselves : one day, i'll stop by. easy to postpone, until postponing it starts feeling too deliberate. so today, he decides to stop doing it — no camera slung over his shoulder, none of his coworkers trailing behind, no editor expecting a story by evening, just ... him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the first thing the journalist had noticed upon stepping deeper into the building was how empty the stands were, and only several minutes after did his gaze settle on the lone figure carving long arcs into the ice and, for a moment, all eyes could do was watch. the man remembered another rink years ago — another version of himself with a notebook that still looked crisp from the lack of use. his first assignment back then had been substantial enough to make him nervous : following a skater everyone else seemed eager to learn about. he had gone expecting to write about the results, but found himself lingering after interviews had ended in lieu. she had stayed, too. not every conversation had been easy : some had barely been conversations at all. there had been long stretches where the only answer was little more than a shrug. oddly enough, those had become the moments he remembered most. then, somewhere along the way, life carried them in opposite directions. the article siwan had once imagined writing about what came next for estela never came to exist.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀his gaze follows her across the rink still, tracing each edge, each turn, and each deliberate pause between movements. siwan watches until the sharpness gives way to the quieter exhaustion that comes after, and, eventually, he pushes forward from where he had been planted in for a good while. for a second, he considers leaving — it would be easier, and he could tell himself he had really only wanted to see if she was really back on the ice and he had gotten his answer already. that some things are better left untouched, preserved in memory rather than disturbed by reality. but then she's stepping off the ice, reaching for her watter bottle, and he realizes he's already waited too long to pretend he isn't here ; so he walks over, but not exactly with the confidence of his usual journalist self approaching a subject with a question prepared. the small wave he offers her way is awkward, the man suddenly aware of how strange he must've looked standing back there and how strange he looks even now.

kitty  would  like  to  pride  himself  in  the  fact,  that  he  does  not  lose  composure  under  pressure.  and  as  much  as  he  managed  to  accomplish  that  so  far  until  now  (barely,  because  when  push  comes  to  shove,  he  ignites  like  a  little  firework),  this  day  will  be  the  darkest  day  in  all  of  his  days.  because  not  only  did  he  manage  to  lose  control  over  his  car,  but  also  took  someone  else  into  this  mess  with  him.  the  first  one  he  would  manage  to  survive  somehow!  sure,  it  would  mean  finding  probably  another  job  to  pay  for  the  car  repair,  because  there  is  no  way  he  would  ask  his  parents  to  pay  for  it,  but  he  would  survive!  but  this?  this  is  something  that  kitty  is  not  sure  if  he  can....

he  panicked,  okay?  there  were  so  many  nurses  and  doctors  running  around,  and  even  if  the  guy  finally  came  back  to  his  room,  it  felt  like  eternity.  and  another  eternity  of  kitty  waiting  on  the  chairs,  and  nobody  still  kept  on  coming...  and  so  a  little  harmless  lie  of  'yes  of  course,  i  am  his  boyfriend!'  and  now  he  is  sitting  on  more  comfortable  chair  right  next  to  the  guy.  god,  and  kitty  doesn't  even  know  his  name!  he  peers  at  the  documents  sitting  on  the  table  and  there  it  is...  donghan.  kitty  blushes  because  fuck,  he  should  probably  not  be  looking  at  those.  still,  the  thing  is  already  done.

watches  the  second  hand  complete  another  slow  circle  on  the  office  clock.  the  hours  have  stretched  long  past  the  point  of  a  simple  delay,  turning  the  evening  into  an exercise  of patience  while  insoo  finishes  whatever  task  has  kept  him  pinned  behind  closed  doors.  sat  through  the  entire  progression  of  the  night,  watching  the  staff  gradually  pack  up  their  desks,  turn  off  their  lamps,  and  disappear  down  the  hallway  until  the  floor  fell  entirely  dark  around  her  chair.  her  phone  lit  up  three  separate  times  with  the  name  of  the  restaurant  he  had  promised  they  would  visit,  the  hostess  sounding  increasingly  apologetic  until  the  final  call  arrived  to  announce  they  were  officially  closing  the  kitchen  for  the  night.

should  have  gathered  her  coat  and  left  after  the  first  hour,  or  walked  out  when  the  lobby  emptied  completely,  but  a  stubborn  patience  kept  her  rooted  to  the  cushion.  she  understood  he  was  caught  up  in  the  crushing  weight  of  his  duties,  refusing  to  entertain  the  thought  that  he  would  ever  leave  her  adrift  on  purpose.  would  rather  swallow  her  own  discomfort  whole  than  leave  an  empty  chair  behind  to  make  him  feel  guilty  for  merely  doing  his  job.  she  remained  out  of  a  soft,  protective  instinct,  sitting  through  the  exhaustion  and  the  sharp  ache  of  hunger  while  the  office  water  dispenser  served  as  the  only  distraction  to  quiet  her  stomach.

her  parents  decided  to  take  a  vacation  in  a  small  coastal  town  where  the  two  of  them  first  met  years  ago.  she  would  have  happily  skipped  the  trip  entirely,  knowing  that  the  itinerary  is  mostly  just  her  parents  reliving  their  early  romance  while  she  tags  along  like  an  unnecessary  third  wheel,  holding  the  camera  to  capture  their  shared  moments. makes  up  an  excuse  at  the  hotel,  telling  them  she  met  a  few  locals  who  asked  to  get  coffee  with  her,  when  the  simple  reality  is  that  she  just  wants  to  give  her  parents  the  privacy  they  obviously  need.  spends  the  morning  having  breakfast  on  her  own,  enjoying  the  scenery  and  taking  a  slow  walk  along  the  perimeter  of  the  coast.  decides  to  stop  by  a  second - hand  bookstore  that  smells  like  old  paper  and  brewed  beans  because  turns  out  the  back  half  is  a  cafe.  orders  some  peppermint  tea  and  a  sandwich,  then  picks  out  a  few  books  from  a  shelf  that  are  apparently  up  for  grabs.