[For ordinary_days01] Waiting for Our Meteor Shower [2/2]

[eonians]

Luhan can’t stop glancing at the scoreboard, looking between the neon numbers and the soccer ball. Chanyeol has it right now, and he barely manages to dodge two defending players from the opposite team.

Time seems to stand still as Chanyeol prepares for his shot. Just one more goal, and they’d win the championships. Luhan holds his breath, watching as Chanyeol draws his foot back. Substituting a first year into a game during the last few minutes had been a risky decision, but Chanyeol is good, and even as he kicks the ball, Luhan already knows-

The ball sails straight into the net, flying over the goalie’s outstretched hands by mere centimeters. Luhan thinks he screams then, letting out a loud exclamation of triumph. There’s already a crowd around Chanyeol as the whole team congratulates him for securing their win. Luhan finds Minseok in front of him, and he doesn’t hesitate before throwing his arms around Minseok. They’re both sweaty from the game, and Luhan’s throat is dry from how much he’d been screaming throughout the game.

That hardly matters, though, not when Luhan’s pulse is sounding so loudly in his ears as he looks at Minseok. “We did it,” he says, but he doesn’t quite believe it, not yet. The realization of what they’d just accomplished hasn’t quite sunk in yet, and Minseok smiles as he pats Luhan’s back.

“We did,” Minseok says, speaking directly into Luhan’s ear so he can be heard above the chatter around them. “Good job.”

Luhan remembers when the coach had given them an inspirational speech the year before, telling them that they were going for district championships. It had been nearly ten years since their school had last won. They’d barley managed to make it to the quarterfinals last year, but this year, they’d made it to the finals and now, they’ve won first place.

“You too,” Luhan says, grinning widely as he steps back. This accomplishment doesn’t just come from one exceptional player; it comes from all of the players on the field working together, functioning as one unit. Luhan looks over Minseok’s shoulder to look for Chanyeol and congratulate him.

Minseok is the first to step away, though, stiffening in Luhan’s embrace before pushing Luhan away. “Hey, Dad,” he says, but his tone is too tight, too controlled.

Luhan recovers quickly, turning to look at the man standing behind him. Minseok’s father is dressed in formal clothes, like he’d just gotten off of work, and there’s a hard set in his expression even as he says, “Congratulations on the win.” His accent is sharp, precise, and Luhan can’t quite look away. He’s never met Minseok’s father before, and this man certainly isn’t what he’d imagined Minseok’s father to be like. He’d thought that Minseok’s father would be someone warm and open, much like Minseok, not someone so cold.

“Thanks,” Minseok says, smiling a little as he bows his head.

Minseok’s father’s eyes turn to Luhan then, and Luhan finds himself standing a little straighter. He’s a few centimeters taller than Mr. Kim, and yet there’s something about his gaze that makes Luhan feel smaller than he really is. There’s a question in his dark eyes, a calculative frown on his lips as he looks at Luhan.

“Hi, I’m Luhan,” Luhan says, stretching out his hand and putting on as convincing of a smile as he can. “I’m Minseok’s friend-”

“He’s one of my teammates,” Minseok finishes, and quickly turns to his father. “Do you have to leave now, Dad?”

Minseok leaves without attending their team’s celebrations, and he doesn’t look at Luhan again as he follows his father off of the field. Luhan watches them for a moment before turning and walking towards Chanyeol, trying to forget about the encounter as he smiles and congratulates the first year for scoring the winning goal.

Usually, games, especially wins, leave Luhan feeling lightheaded for some time. This is probably the biggest win they’ve had in all the games Luhan’s participated in these past two years, but somehow, Luhan can’t quite bring himself to be happy about it.

Minseok calls later that night, just when Luhan is about to fall asleep.

“Hello?” Luhan says into the receiver, covering a yawn with the back of his hand.

“Luhan?” Minseok’s voice sounds unusually soft, and even though Luhan can’t see his expression, he knows that Minseok is probably troubled right now.

Luhan sits up, his tiredness suddenly forgotten. “Yeah, what’s up?”

It’s quiet on Minseok’s end for a long time, long enough that Luhan almost thinks that Minseok has fallen asleep, until Minseok says, “I told my dad about us.”

Luhan draws in a breath sharply. “Minseok, you didn’t-”

“I couldn’t hide it,” Minseok interrupts, speaking quickly like he’s being pressed to get the words out. “I had to tell him sooner or later, even though…” Minseok sighs, and Luhan’s hand tightens around his phone. “He doesn’t want me to be on the soccer team anymore. He thinks it’s too much of a distraction, and he doesn’t want you to see me anymore.”

“Minseok,” Luhan begins, but he can’t find the words quickly enough.

“I’m sorry. I tried to reason with him, but it’s just-” Minseok breaks off, and Luhan wishes that he was there next to him right now, that he could just hug Minseok.

“It’s okay,” Luhan says, smiling to try to keep his tone light. He’s not sure that he succeeds, though, and the smile strains at the edges of his lips. It’s not really okay, though. Luhan wants to be selfish, wants to tell Minseok to purposefully defy his father, but he knows that he doesn’t have the right. “I’ll still see you around, right?” he asks instead.

“Yeah,” Minseok says. His voice sounds too flat, like he isn’t really paying attention to what he’s saying. “I’ll see you.”

Luhan is bundled up in many layers, his beanie pulled low over his ears, and he’s even wearing two layers of socks, but he’s still cold. He shivers as he stands on the street next to his motorcycle, rubbing his gloved hands together in an attempt to warm them. Winter is unusually harsh this year, and he hopes that his hands won’t freeze in case he has to brake abruptly.

Maybe deciding to go out for a drive in this weather hadn’t been the best idea, but Luhan quickly dismisses the thought when he sees Minseok walking down the street.

“Hey,” Luhan calls, waving a hand as Minseok walks towards him.

“It’s cold, isn’t it?” Minseok greets him. He looks smaller in his thick coat, like he’s trying to make himself as small as possible to conserve as much warmth as he can. It seems like he’s going to blow away with the wind, though, and Luhan pulls Minseok towards him.

“It’ll be warmer once we get moving,” Luhan offers, laughing when Minseok gives him a halfhearted glare.

“Whose brilliant idea was this again?” Minseok pushes Luhan lightly, indicating for him to start the motorcycle again.

The wind blasts in their faces when Luhan starts driving the motorcycle. Luhan squints against the wind, trying to focus on the road instead of how cold it is. Minseok is practically shivering from where he’s pressed against Luhan’s back, and Luhan is thankful for the warmth that Minseok provides, even if he can barely feel it.

“Careful,” Minseok says into Luhan’s ear when Luhan does a sharp turn around a corner.

Luhan retaliates by swerving in the road. There aren’t many cars around them, but he hears Minseok gasping loudly anyway, holding on a little tighter. “Having fun?” Luhan asks over his shoulder.

“See if I agree to come out with you next time.” Minseok rests his chin on Luhan’s shoulder, pressing their cheeks against each other. Luhan had forgone wearing his helmet, since they’re only going down a few alleyways. His mother would probably ground him if she found out, but he’s glad he decided to do so, since he can feel Minseok’s face right next to his and the warmth of Minseok’s breath against his cheek. “Your hat is so soft.”

Don’t move, Luhan wants to tell him. He tightens his grip around the handlebars of his motorcycle instead, and his laughter gets lost in the wind.

Minseok’s teeth are chattering by the time they arrive at the beach. Luhan throws an arm over his shoulders, almost thankful for the weather and the relatively empty beach when Minseok hugs him back instead of pulling away.

“I’m going to get sick,” Minseok says. The tip of his nose is red, and he snaps threateningly when Luhan tries to touch it. “We have a test this Friday.”

They should both be at home right now, preparing for the mock examinations. Luhan had spent the past weekend curled up in his bed under the thickest blankets he could find, reading through his textbooks for hours straight. It’s the most he’s ever studied, leaving him drained the next day, and he’s sure that he won’t be able to survive next year.

“I brought you out here to relax,” Luhan says. He steps away and walks closer to the edge of the beach. During the summer, it’s usually difficult to even find enough space to put up an umbrella and a towel. Right now, they seem to have the whole beach to themselves.

He stops just where the waves are hitting the shore, barely brushing over the toes of his sneakers before they recede again. Minseok pushes him when they come back again, not hard enough for Luhan to lose his balance. It’s enough to catch Luhan off guard, though, and he slips a few centimeters forward.

“Hey!” Luhan turns, but Minseok is already a safe distance away, laughing loudly. Luhan chases after him, catching him with a hand around his arm. He brings one of his hands up, arranging his fingers like he’s getting ready to flick Minseok’s forehead. Minseok flinches, bracing for the hit, but Luhan only fixes his hair, adjusting the stray windblown strands.

“Sorry.” Minseok shakes his head, messing up his hair again as he grins in a way that says he’s not sorry at all. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Luhan realizes that he’s been staring too long when Minseok’s smile drops, his expression turning serious like he’s expecting Luhan to do something. Luhan swallows, but he doesn’t say anything, just stares at Minseok. There’s something in the clear blueness of Minseok’s eyes and the set of his mouth, and Luhan doesn’t have the words to describe it.

Minseok ends up closing the distance between them, putting his hand on the back of Luhan’s neck. Luhan shivers at the cold touch, but he forgets it with the slide of Minseok’s lips against his. They’re slightly chapped, and Minseok is still trembling from the last gust of wind, but Luhan loses himself in Minseok’s arms, closing his eyes as Minseok moves a little closer.

“Feeling warmer now?” Minseok asks, smiling against Luhan’s lips before he pulls away.

Luhan blinks, feeling a little off balance. He sits down on the ground when Minseok laughs at him, drawing his legs to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. He’s smiling, though, and his cheeks are somehow burning.

“Sorry, you just looked so lost.” Minseok sits down next to Luhan, nudging him with his shoulder. “Come on, don’t get mad at me.”

“Not mad,” Luhan says, ducking his head and clearing his throat. “What about your dad?” He feels Minseok stiffen almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth. It almost makes him want to take them back, but this is a conversation that they’re going to have to have sooner or later.

“It’s not anything against you. It’s because… Your family doesn’t have that much money,” Minseok finishes in a rush, his embarrassment obvious in the way he’s not meeting Luhan’s eyes. “My dad-his family wasn’t very well off when he was growing up, and there were times when they had to depend on charity to get them through. He hated that, so he worked hard to make sure that I would never have to go through what he did.” Luhan hadn’t even noticed that Minseok was rich, not until he’d seen his father, seen the expensive watch around his wrist and the car that Minseok’s father drove when he picked Minseok up. It wasn’t something that Minseok had ever mentioned, and it hadn’t even mattered between the two of them until now.

Minseok picks up a handful of sand, letting the grains slip through from between his fingers. “He grew up with his soulmate, too, but he left her later, when he got into college and she didn’t. My parents don’t really love each other, but it’s just because…” Minseok breaks off with a laugh, the sound unusually sharp and bitter. “I’m sorry.”

Luhan wraps his arm around Minseok’s waist, resting his head on Minseok’s shoulder. It’s okay, he silently says with his actions, and he hears Minseok’s breath steadying, evening out like it does when he’s calming down after a long practice. “Is that why you quit soccer?”

“My grades were slipping.” Minseok puts a hand on Luhan’s knee, squeezing lightly and letting his hand rest there. “He wants me to focus on my studies so I’ll do well on the college entrance exams.”

It’s not unheard of for students to drop all extracurricular activities in favor for preparing for the test. Luhan had hoped that Minseok would still be on the team next year, so they could be co-captains, but maybe this is good enough. They can still play privately when they have time, and it’s not that difficult getting around Minseok’s father.

“I’ll wait for you,” Luhan promises. It feels so easy, so natural, to say those words with the limitless ocean before him and Minseok right next to him. Maybe it’s really just as simple as this, Luhan thinks, watching as the waves draw closer to the shore again and stop a safe distance away. Maybe they don’t need anything more.

The streets are eerily dark when Luhan parks his motorcycle and turns off the engine. There’s a lamp further down the street, but it only succeeds in casting shadows from so far away. Luhan almost wants to turn the engine back on, even if it means wasting gas, so that he’d at least have the headlights.

Luhan turns on his phone instead, dialing a number and bringing it up to his ear.

“Hello?” Minseok answers, sounding so tired that Luhan almost feels bad for waking him up.

“Hey.” Luhan twirls the strap of his helmet around a finger, cringing inside when he hears how loud his voice sounds in the empty alley. “I’m just a block away from your house. Do you want to come out?”

“Luhan,” Minseok says. There’s a hint of exasperation in his tone.

“I have something to show you,” Luhan quickly says. “Just come out, please?”

Minseok sighs, but Luhan can hear him shuffling in the background, and he knows that he’s getting out of bed. “Give me a few minutes.”

Luhan waits in the uneasy silence, almost expecting something to come at him out of nowhere. When he hears a noise behind him, he almost screams, but it’s only Minseok.

“What is it that you wanted to show me?” Minseok asks. He’s dressed in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and his hair is messy, falling into his eyes as he looks at Luhan.

“There’s going to be a meteor shower tonight,” Luhan says, and even in the dim lighting, he knows that Minseok is rolling his eyes at him. “You’ve never seen one before, have you? It’s going to be exciting.”

“My dad is going to kill me if he finds out,” Minseok says, but he complies anyway, getting on the motorcycle after Luhan. He wraps his arms around Luhan, the embrace almost natural from how many times they’ve done this before.

Luhan’s mother would probably kill him, too, if she found out. It’s one thing to be out playing during the day, but another thing completely to go out at night, a time when criminals are known to be in the streets. He doesn’t have an official bedtime, but it’s still an unofficial agreement between both of them that after he’s brushed his teeth, he’s going to go straight to bed.

The beginning of the school year has been busy for both of them. They’re not in the same classes, and most days, it’s hard for them to see each other. They’ve gotten used to sneaking behind Minseok’s father’s back, but this is still the first time that they’ve been out so late. Luhan is a little terrified, but that makes the experience even more exciting.

He takes Minseok to the beach that they’d gone to before. It’s like they’re in a different world, the silence almost foreboding after Luhan cuts off the engine of the motorcycle.

Luhan hasn’t been here in a while, and he’s certainly never seen the beach like this. The moon is shining brightly overhead, reflected in the water. There are little pinpoints of light in the sky as well, although it’s hard to tell if they’re stars or satellites.

“Sit down.” Luhan doesn’t know why he’s speaking so softly, but it seems to fit the atmosphere around them.

Minseok sits down next to him in the sand, their backs to the motorcycle as they look up at the night sky. It’s been a while since Luhan has really gotten to look up at the moon, and he tries to memorize this exact feeling as a soft wind blows around them.

“So when is the meteor shower going to start?” Minseok asks, his voice barely above a whisper. There’s nothing accusing in his question, just simple curiosity, but Luhan shifts uncomfortably anyway.

“Be patient,” Luhan says, although he’d also been wondering the same thing. His neck is starting to hurt from being stuck in the same position for so long, but the more he stares at the sky, the less he wants to look away.

Luhan loses track of how long they spend waiting for the meteor shower. He hadn’t checked the time before coming out here, so he has no way of knowing when it’s supposed to come. They don’t ever get to see it, though, because it starts raining.

Minseok jumps up as the first droplets of rain hit them. “You don’t have an umbrella, do you?”

Luhan shakes his head. He usually keeps one with his motorcycle, but he hadn’t thought to bring it today. “We should probably get back.” He doesn’t want to leave yet, but the rain seems to be getting heavier. They can’t stay out here forever, and it’s not like they’ll be able to see the meteor shower with the rain.

“Are you sure you didn’t mix up rain shower with meteor shower?” Minseok asks, as Luhan pulls up outside of his house.

“I didn’t.” Luhan frowns, putting both feet on the ground to steady the motorcycle as Minseok gets off. “I saw it on the evening news.”

“Maybe we’ll get to see it next time.” Minseok smiles, remaining beside Luhan’s motorcycle even though the rain is pouring down on him. His bangs are sticking to his forehead, and Luhan reaches out to brush them away.

Just then, the front door to Minseok’s house opens, and Minseok’s dad steps out.

“What are you doing out there?” he calls, and Minseok quickly takes a step back.

Luhan drops his hand instead, smiling when Minseok apologizes. “I’ll see you,” he says. He doesn’t wait to watch Minseok make his way back towards his house, instead starting the engine and driving away.

Later that night, he receives a text from Minseok that simply says, I’m sorry about today. I didn’t think that would happen.

Really, Luhan should be the one apologizing for calling Minseok out, for taking him to see a meteor shower that hadn’t even happened, and for bringing him home too late. It’s okay, he replies instead, and he wonders how much longer they can keep believing that.

It’s late summer when Luhan gets a letter from his first choice college, informing that he’d not only gotten in, but he’d also gotten a partial scholarship. There’s still a lot that he has to cover for, but the money the school is offering him takes a lot of the burden off of him.

“Good job,” Luhan’s mother says, leaning over the table to read the letter. She looks up, seeming surprised that Luhan isn’t jumping up from happiness. “What’s wrong? Why do you look so sad lately?”

Luhan folds the letter neatly and slides it back into the envelope. It’s not just the realization that he’s graduated from high school that’s weighing so heavily. Graduation was two weeks ago, complete with celebration parties and a last team gathering to relive the old days. It’s not like they’re never going to see each other again. It’s just that Minseok-

Luhan had never gotten a chance to tell his mother exactly what had happened between him and Minseok. He doesn’t want her to blame herself for anything, since he’d never felt that he was lacking when he was growing up. She’s done her best in raising him alone, and his relationship with Minseok was something that neither of them could really control.

His mother is looking at him, though, waiting for him to explain. So Luhan does, telling her about Minseok’s father’s objections and how they’re going to colleges that are across the country from each other. They haven’t talked about it yet, haven’t discussed what this would mean for them, and Luhan is too scared to bring it up in a conversation. Dealing with it would make it real, and Luhan isn’t ready to take that jump just yet.

He’s always been close to his mother, and it’s easier to tell her about his worst fears. She listens without scolding him for everything he’s done wrong, taking in his words without interrupting him once. Luhan exhales slowly when he’s finished, staring down at the table. He feels calmer now, though, calmer than he had been when he’d first started. Maybe he’d just needed this-someone to tell his insecurities to, someone to tell him what to do.

“Don’t give up yet,” his mother says, when he’s finished speaking. “You still love him, don’t you?”

Luhan nods without hesitation. Of course he does; that hasn’t changed, no matter how long they’ve gone without seeing each other.

“You should tell him how you feel. Tell him how strongly you feel towards him. Don’t be afraid to lay your feelings on the table.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“You’ll know that you tried.” His mother smiles, and Luhan is amazed that, despite everything that she’s gone through, everything that hadn’t worked out well in her life, there’s still hope shining in her eyes.

Don’t give up, she’s always told him, and Luhan nods. He’s still scared, still uncertain, but he knows what he’s going to do next.

“Hello?” Minseok says the moment he picks up.

“Hey, Minseok?” Luhan winces at how weirdly his voice comes out. He holds the phone away from himself for a moment, clearing his throat before he continues, “How have you been?”

“Not bad, why?” Minseok’s always been more direct over the phone, especially since he can’t see Luhan’s expressions, having to rely only on his voice to know how to proceed.

“I got a scholarship.” This isn’t how Luhan had intended to start the conversation, but he continues quickly, “It won’t cover everything, but it will be enough so I won’t have to work as much. I’ll get a side job to cover all of the expenses, and I’ll try to save up enough money so that I can visit you over the breaks.” Luhan had written out what he was going to say beforehand and memorized the lines so he wouldn’t be reading off of them. He’s saying the lines backwards, but Luhan hopes that Minseok can understand him anyway.

“Visit?” Minseok repeats.

“Yeah. I know that we won’t be close to each other, but if we try-"

"Luhan, maybe we should stop," Minseok says.

Luhan stills, his fingers tightening around his phone. Minseok can't be saying what Luhan thinks he's saying. "Stop what?" he asks, his voice tight. He holds his breath because he doesn't want to know, but Minseok answers anyway.

"We can't keep this up forever. There's still so much out there that we haven't seen yet."

Luhan wishes that he could see Minseok, wishes that they were sitting across from each other in the same room. Minseok sounds too calm, too collected for the situation. "I love you," Luhan says, but it sounds like an excuse, like he's offering the words to Minseok as a sort of appeasement.

"I love you too." Minseok sighs, the puff of air barely audible over the phone. "But we can't keep this up forever."

Minseok sounds nothing like he had when he'd sat beside Luhan that day at the beach, promising that they'd be together no matter what. Luhan waits for a few moments, almost expecting Minseok to say that it was all a joke, that of course they could try. Minseok doesn't say anything else, though, and it occurs to Luhan that he's said everything that he needs to.

"Okay." It's the last word that Luhan wants to say, even if he can see the logic in Minseok's reasoning. He's tempted to beg Minseok to just try with him, argue that there's no reason why they can't stay together, but instead, he just says, "I'll see you around."

“Hey, are you okay?” Minhyuk asks, stepping into the bathroom. “What happened?”

Luhan leans a little closer to the mirror, staring at his reflection. “My eyes just started stinging.” He throws the tissue he’d been using into the trash, blinking a few times. “I’m fine,” he says, smiling at Minhyuk to back up his statement. “Come on, let’s go.”

Minhyuk frowns as he stares at Luhan. “Are you wearing contacts? I thought you had twenty-twenty vision.”

Luhan turns away, heading towards the door. “I do.” He doesn’t elaborate as he steps out of the bathroom. Minhyuk follows him without asking any more questions.

Luhan understands that Minhyuk is trying to do his job as team captain, but Luhan hasn’t talked about his past to even his closest teammates. It’s something that he wants to leave behind in the city, like the way he’d left several years ago. He hasn’t returned since then, but Luhan still feels like some part of him is left there, buried there forever.

No one really makes a big deal out of eye colors anymore. It’s something that kids and parents fuss over, but those are trivial matters that usually aren’t discussed on the field.

It still bothers Luhan, though, in all the ways that it really shouldn’t. He’s gotten used to wearing contacts that make his eyes appear to be a brown color, the way they had been before he’d met Minseok. He still remembers his mother’s hauntingly sad eyes, the way that the bright green color seemed to fade with each passing year. He can’t help thinking that it won’t be long before that happens to him, before the memories he has fade in his mind.

Luhan nearly forgets about his surroundings for a moment, lost in his thoughts. It’s only when he nearly trips down a step that he snaps out of it.

“Careful,” Minhyuk says, laughing as he steadies Luhan. “What’s wrong? Not even first years do that anymore.”

“Thanks.” Luhan regains his balance, looking back resentfully at the step. It’s just a little drop from their locker room out into the field. He hasn’t tripped over it in all his years here, so he doesn’t know why his muscle memory would fail him now. “How is practice coming?” Luhan asks, turning his attention back to the soccer field. It’s been a month since practice first started, and it won’t be long before they have their first game of the year.

“Not bad.” Minhyuk holds a hand over his eyes, looking out into the field. “I think our team’s pretty good this year. How’s your ankle doing?”

It’s been several months since Luhan had twisted his ankle, but Minhyuk still brings it up often. Luhan knows that it’s because this is the year that really counts, the year that talent scouts are going to be watching. He’s still somewhat annoyed, though, that Minhyuk only lets him play for so long in the field. Luhan has to come out to the field alone some nights to get more practice in. He’s gotten used to the dimness of the floodlights in the field, the uneasy silence at night. Sometimes, Luhan wishes that he could call someone out into the field to play with him, wishes that he could find someone who would be willing to match him step for step.

“It’s great,” Luhan says, knowing that he’d probably blanked out again from the way that Minhyuk is staring at him. “I think I should be worrying about my grades.” It’s tricky, balancing schoolwork with soccer, and Luhan knows that he’ll lose his scholarship if he lets them slip any more than they already are. It’s not like they’ll matter two, three years down the line, but for now, Luhan needs to stay in college. “Am I still on probation?”

Minhyuk frowns, stepping forward as he raises a hand to get the team’s attention. “You’re not on probation. I was thinking about splitting the team up for a mock game today. You up for being the captain of one of the teams?”

Luhan laughs, stretching to warm up his muscles as the team starts gathering around them. “Get ready to lose.”

Luhan gets up when the final score is announced, bracing himself as Baekhyun nearly knocks him over from the force of his hug. “Whoa, careful,” Luhan says, laughing as he sits down in his chair again. Like this, he’s almost eye level with the kid, who is still glowing from their win. He’s learned long ago not to underestimate kids, especially not ones like Baekhyun who seem to have a limitless amount of energy.

“We won,” Baekhyun says. His hair is falling messily into his eyes, and Luhan smiles as he fixes it for him.

“You did. Good job.” Luhan is almost surprised by the amount of pride he feels just from looking at Baekhyun. It’s been so long since he’d last felt the thrill of the game firsthand, so long since he’d last been genuinely interested in the ever-changing stats of professional soccer players. He’s thankful he still has the chance to relive the thrill through his own students.

“It’s thanks to you.” Luhan looks up to see Baekhyun’s mom standing behind him. She’s frowning at the grass stains on Baekhyun’s shirts, and Luhan offers her an apologetic smile. “We never even thought that he would make the team, much less love it as much he does now.”

“Most not be a good thing,” Luhan jokes, grinning as she shakes her head at him.

“Definitely not.” She smiles, taking Baekhyun’s hand when he starts to get nervous. “Thank you for teaching him,” she says, inclining her head.

“It’s my pleasure,” Luhan says, and he truly means those words. Ten years ago, he would never have imagined being in this position, but now, he can’t imagine having a better job. This is something that he genuinely enjoys and looks forward to doing, spreading the love for the game into young, excited children. “Baekhyun’s a good kid.”

“See you, Mr. Lu.” Baekhyun turns to wave at Luhan before walking away with his mother.

Luhan watches them go, sees the excitement in the way that Baekhyun is walking. He knows that Baekhyun is probably starting to talk about the game already, bragging to his mom about how well he’d done, even though she had probably been filming him on her phone the whole time.

“Excuse me, are you Luhan?”

A soft voice interrupts Luhan’s thoughts, and Luhan looks down to see a young boy staring up at him. “Yes, I am. What can I do for you?”

“You’re really Luhan?” The boy’s eyes widen, like he doesn’t quite believe Luhan. “Like, the professional soccer player?”

Luhan is too surprised to speak for a moment. It’s been so long since anyone has referred to him by that title. He’d stopped playing years ago, when another injury to his right ankle had put him out for good. Luhan had only played for two years on the team anyway, hadn’t done anything major to still be remembered all these years later.

He wonders how this young kid knows about him as he replies, “Yes, that’s me.”

“Can you sign this for me?” the boy asks, holding out a T-shirt and a pen.

Luhan takes both of the items, unfolding the carefully folded T-shirt. He’s surprised when he sees his number written on the back, the insignia of the team he used to play for across the bottom. As far as he knows, no one’s had his number since he’d left, and Luhan doubts that they still produce and sell his particular shirt. Luhan hasn’t given out his signature in a long time, and he’s doesn’t remember ever seeing this much excitement in someone’s eyes just from getting his signature.

“Thank you,” the boy quickly says, before turning around and shouting, “Dad, I got his signature!”

“That’s great,” his dad says, and Luhan’s laughter dies abruptly in his throat.

His first thought is instant denial because there’s just no way that’s who he thinks it is. But there’s also no way he could forget that particular voice, even if it’s been ages since he’d last heard it.

Luhan looks up slowly, almost forgetting how to breathe when he meets the man’s eyes. “Minseok?”

Minseok nods, waving somewhat awkwardly. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

There are so many things that Luhan wants to say, but he’s aware that this probably isn’t the best time, the best circumstance, to say them. In fact, he might never have a chance to say them at all, and Luhan’s come to accept it. He knows, though, that there shouldn’t be this much tension between the two of them, not when they’d been the closest of friends once. “Is this your kid?” Luhan asks instead, quickly changing the subject.

“Yeah.” The smile on Minseok’s lips is one of unmistakable pride, and Luhan is surprised by the odd feeling in his chest that follows. It’s fainter than it had once been, of course, but it’s still there. “His name is Jongin. I don’t believe you properly introduced yourself, Jongin.”

“Oh, right!” Jongin quickly bows, his expression so serious that Luhan has to hold back a smile. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jongin.” He pauses, glancing briefly at Minseok, before saying, “I’ve seen all of your videos. My dad showed me all of them, and I’m a really big fan of your playing.”

Luhan looks up at Minseok, thrown off by Jongin’s statement, but Minseok is staring fondly at Jongin. “Thank you,” Luhan says. “I haven’t played in a long time, but thank you.” He spends most of his time coaching these days, and although he’s played informally a few times with his friends, it’s been a while since Luhan had last touched the cleats under his bed.

“Really? You should play with my dad sometime. I’d love to watch.”

Minseok laughs, ruffling Jongin’s hair. “We should get going, Jongin. Mom’s already waiting for us.”

Mom? Luhan wants to ask, but instead, he tells Jongin, “If you’re interested, you should try out for the team next year. We’d love to have you.”

“I will,” Jongin says.

“He’s already practicing for it,” Minseok tells Luhan, shaking his head almost wistfully. “He has big dreams for such a little kid.” He ignores Jongin’s protests as he says, “It’s great seeing you again. We should catch up later.”

“Later,” Luhan echoes, watching as Minseok leads Jongin away.

Jongin pauses when they’re a few dozen steps away, turning to wave at Luhan. Luhan smiles as he waves back, and it’s then that he notices that Jongin’s eyes are a bright blue, just like his father’s.

Part 1 / Part 2