hundredxoverfest | Prompt #21: Irresistible

Prompt: #21
Title: Irresistible
Genre: Romance
Rating: NC-17
Side Pairings: -
Warning/s: mild swearing, sexual content, multi-partner relationship, threesome
Season: Summer
Summary: Junmyeon is a journalist, and his newest assignment is to help cover the current season of men's basketball. It's supposed to be only business, but Junmyeon struggles to keep his eyes off of Yifan, one of the league's top players. To make matters worse, there's a rookie team climbing the ranks, and team captain Kris is definitely snagging Junmyeon's interest in more ways than one.
A/N (Author's Note): A big thank you to the mods for hosting a round 2 and for being so patient with me. To anyone else reading this, hope you all like it!
Advanced apologies for any potential discrepancies; I am not an expert on basketball nor journalism, though I researched the best I could!

If someone had told him seven years ago that he would be a journalist, Junmyeon would have laughed. The field of news was something that Junmyeon had never expected to dip his toes into back when he was a college freshman.

But, well, things did not always go as planned. By the time he was a junior in college, Junmyeon had changed his major, and wound up graduating with a major in journalism and a minor in broadcasting. He had never quite expected such a path to unfold before him when he was younger, but walking down that path was not something he regretted.

He was still young – he was only twenty-five after all – so he still had plenty of room to grow. He still had time to rope more experience under his belt. That was partially how he had ended up in the situation to begin with. After all, the last thing Junmyeon had ever considered writing about was sports, and certainly not basketball. Golf was one branch that he was surprisingly interested in quite a bit, but he had never paid basketball any mind.

But, when it came to his job, he was willing to give it a shot. He had done various assignments so far, internships during college and short bursts of producing articles for an array of subjects. Giving yet another topic an opportunity didn’t sound like a bad idea, though his lack of knowledge about the subject did make the entire matter a little intimidating.

Thank goodness for his coworkers or he’d be a lost cause.

“It’s actually quite simple,” Jongdae, another journalist assigned to the same project, commented as he scribbled a few notes down on a sheet of paper. “First, you have the regular season…”

The sheet of paper alone made Junmyeon feel dizzy.

With the explanation from Jongdae, Junmyeon came to fully understand his assignment. He was covering for the playoffs. There were two conferences, and the win-loss records would show the top eight teams for each. The winner from each conference would advance to the final round.

After discussing the basics of how the schedule worked, and dividing up the games amongst themselves to figure out who needed to be where, Junmyeon began to research the teams little by little. He was starting small by research the four teams that he was going to be witnessing play on day one. He read up on player profiles and team history and overall, everything seemed, well, normal.

But there was one player who had managed to catch his eyes, and imagine his luck: he was also set to play in the first match that Junmyeon was going to be sitting in on to watch.

If Junmyeon was being honest with himself, the man was more than just brilliant in the field of sports. Sure, everyone knew that Wu Yifan was a gifted individual and was extremely skilled in the area of basketball, but it was also a well-known fact that Yifan had a wide array of talents outside of the court. Junmyeon had brushed up on his knowledge, skimming and digging through online reports and interviews to learn more about the man who was a part of the league’s top teams.

Junmyeon could easily rattle off the list of facts in his brain: born in Guangzhou, a whopping one hundred and eighty-seven centimeters tall, fluent in four languages—

And, well, one would have to be blind to not realize that Yifan was also extremely attractive.

Junmyeon had heard those types of words coming out of the mouths of both men and women, in the reality around him and on various articles online. And although Junmyeon wouldn’t admit it out loud, he would definitely agree. There wasn’t one specific aspect that Junmyeon could place his finger on that was the sole basis as to why Yifan was good-looking, no, it was an entire concept. Yifan as a whole was attractive, a combination of other-worldly body proportions – long legs, broad shoulders, narrow torso – and a well-sculpted face. Junmyeon could detect a certain aura about him, one that he couldn’t quite describe in words, that still managed to take his breath away regardless. Yifan was not the talkative type, but his eyes seemed to do most of the speaking anyway, dark and glimmering as if they knew secrets that no one else dared ask about.

He had dyed his hair. That was new, and Junmyeon had noticed it as he glanced up from his slowly growing assemblage of equipment. It was chopped short and colored a striking and bold shade of silver, shining under the court lights even on television screens.

It suited him.

Junmyeon released a slow and steady breath as he settled back in his chair, huddled in the confines of the press box along with the other journalists and reporters. The game was starting in just a moment, and the crowd was beginning to get riled up, loud and eager. However, the press box, filled with Junmyeon and others just like him, were eerily silent. Junmyeon admitted it, he knew he was still a rookie when it came to this whole sports reporting thing, so getting adjusted to the thick silence of the press box while the world about him exploded with a crescendo of noise was a little tricky. The press box was for professionals. They were meant to survey and write about the game from a neutral standpoint; for that reason, they did not cheer for their favorite team. It would be biased to do so. Occasionally, some of the reports would speak quietly to one another, but it was a rare occurrence, as everyone, huddled at the table with their laptops, cameras, and phones, was working. Everyone needed to focus on the game to ensure they had proper notes and material for their reports and articles and online journals.

Sit down, shut up, do the job as needed. Junmyeon nodded a little to himself as if to cement that reminder into his brain as he readjusted his setup one last time, making sure his laptop was booted and ready, his notepad sitting idly nearby. He could hear the slow building white noise of the overhead speaker as it came to life, meaning the commentators were about to speak. And, of course, that meant the game was officially about to start.

Well, here went nothing, he supposed. Focus. He could do this.

Still, Junmyeon did have a bit of nerves remaining inside of him. He had never covered this type of topic before, and he wanted to do well. He was also rather late entering the assignment. After all, these were the playoffs. Initial matches had already been completed and they were down to the wire at this point. Whoever rose victorious from each conference would advance to the final round.

This was the first day of playoff games as well. Saturday, a spring day, wedged in the middle of April. He was only one person and could only be in a single place at a time, and could only handle so much work at once. That was one reason he and Jongdae had both been placed onto the same assignment. Days like today, where there were four games, each with the potential of overtime, schedules could become extremely tight. Jongdae had been placed onto the very first game, three o’clock, and his next game assignment was at eight. Junmyeon’s schedule was very similar. His first game was the second match of the day, five-thirty, and he was also set to cover the last match of the day at ten-thirty, provided everything went according to plan.

That was all he wanted at this point, was for things to go smoothly.

Junmyeon zoned back into reality then, realizing that the commentator was already speaking, and he had missed the first few seconds. Focus, he reminded himself, he needed to focus!

“Tonight, we welcome you to a continuation of game one,” the commentator was saying, “which will pave the way to one team heading to the finals.”

His surroundings were something he was going to have to get used to, that was for sure. Cheerleaders on the court and basketball players huddled together near the sidelines. Junmyeon could still hear the chants of the crowd despite the speech of the commentator. He and the others in the press box were quiet, so horribly silent in such a loud room, adorned in their rather boring outfits of blacks and grays while the crowd was fitted into their supportive colors of red and white.

Red, like the color of Yifan’s jersey, Junmyeon reminded himself. Even though the game hadn’t officially started, and Yifan’s team was still huddled on the sidelines, Yifan somehow managed to steal the gaze of many people. His stature, his silver hair, his aura, Junmyeon didn’t know, but he did notice that his eyes were already starting to stray to Yifan multiple times already.

“And we welcome you to courtside everyone. This has been a dream for many coaches, players, and fans, to see their team advance this far into the league and compete for a chance at winning the finals,” the commentator continued. “I’m sure this is a mixture of emotions for many people, but especially for the players.”

“Correct, it’s a balancing act,” the second commentator said, “players have to find their balance between excitement and anxiety, especially at a time like this. Gain your confidence, and work on maintaining your emotions to a manageable level. Let’s take a look at tonight’s starting lineup.”

The players were moving around now, shaking hands, taking brief moments with their coaches. Yifan and his teammates broke from their small circle and began to wander off towards the center of the court, though Yifan lingered behind for a moment. Junmyeon could not tell who he was with, but he assumed it was a coach. There was a small blue plastic container between them before Yifan extracted a mouth guard, giving the man a pat on the bicep as thanks as he slid the guard in between his lips and over the line of his teeth as he too wandered onto the court.

The commentators were listing off names, names Junmyeon vaguely remembered when he had been reviewing the team listings with Jongdae. The court had been cleared off aside from the players now, all getting into position, and the referees who stood nearby. Junmyeon could hear the echo of the horn blaring above them to signal things were officially underway.

His first sports assignment was starting, and if he was being honest with himself, the first basketball game he had ever been to in his entire life.

“Let’s see how this first quarter goes,” the first commentator said then, and Junmyeon couldn’t help but agree with him, wondering just how the game would play out in the long run.

Overall, Junmyeon blocked out the noise of the two commentators. He didn’t need them, not much anyway, since he had a pretty good view from the press box. There were a few instances he did need the help, mainly when the angle wasn’t on his side and he needed to know what had happened to have caused a foul or other issue on the court. He took notes the best he could, not sure if he had ever typed this fast in his entire life. He wasn’t sure as to how much information he was going to need and he wanted to make sure he had everything he needed to write up a good report later.

Well, this was the start of the first quarter and anything could happen by the time the game ended. After all, they were only a minute in and there had already been a foul due to stepping outside of the court. Three free-throws, and three points already scored for Yifan’s team, their red jerseys blending together on the court.

But there was one thing Junmyeon noticed, and that was as they broke away from the direction of the free-throw line, his eyes met Yifan’s for one split second.

And he didn’t know why, but Junmyeon could have sworn his heart was not beating that fast a minute ago.

By halftime, it was almost unbearably close. Fifty-five to fifty-one with Yifan’s team just barely in the lead. Junmyeon knew he wasn’t supposed to cheer for a team or even have favorites, but he found himself internally rooting for Yifan and his teammates. And really, he wasn’t quite sure why. Junmyeon hadn’t been interested in basketball in the slightest until now, after all, but hey, maybe this just meant he was at last getting into the game like everyone else.

After over an hour and a half of game time, it was over. One hundred and fifteen to one hundred and seven. Junmyeon tried to hide the smile on his face but he just couldn’t, grinning over the screen of his laptop as he watched the stadium explode. Players sharing handshakes and hugs with their coaches and other team staff, film crews all rushing out onto the court and practically chasing the players around with their camera equipment.

Soon enough, that was about to be him.

Wu Yifan was even bigger up close. Junmyeon actually felt a little intimidated as he approached him, his messenger bag dangling awkwardly from his shoulder as the weight of the laptop inside of it weighed him down. He was clutching his recorder in his hands almost for dear life, and when Yifan turned to look at him with dark, curious eyes, Junmyeon had never felt so small.

He felt like he was choking before he even managed to speak. And really, it was embarrassing. He had introduced himself, rattling off his name and who he worked for before asking Yifan if he had a moment of time to spare. Junmyeon couldn’t tell if he was bothering the man or not, as Yifan’s facial expression didn’t seem to change very much, but he didn’t object to Junmyeon’s request.

It had been Junmyeon’s first interview for a basketball player and he, even now, was thrown for a loop.

He was nestled within the four walls of his hotel room at the moment. The day had been long, and after attending two games, his brain was a little fried. The excitement had worn him out entirely, but he had work to do, chewing absently on the end of his pen as he scowled at his laptop screen. The second game, if he was being honest, had bored him a little. He wasn’t particularly interested in either team, and it had taken a lot of focus to keep up with the twirls of jerseys moving across the court. Now, settled within his hotel at last, Junmyeon was playing back his recordings from the interviews he had conducted earlier that evening.

The interview for the later game had thankfully gone a little smoother, since Junmyeon had managed to get a grip that time and hadn’t turned into a shaky mess. But that didn’t change the fact he had been a near train wreck during the interview with Yifan, and as he sat there listening to the recording over and over, he couldn’t shake away the memories of it.

He had asked Yifan some basic questions initially. What are your predictions for the remainder of the season, he could hear his voice saying on the recorder. Do you have anyone who has been a major influence for you this season, his voice said. And then there was the last question that came eventually, the same one that had Junmyeon stumped all evening. It was simple enough: how did you not become overwhelmed by the moment during this game?

“You cannot allow the stress or heat of the moment to affect you during a game,” he could hear Yifan saying on the tape, his voice steady, timbre. A little shiver ran down Junmyeon’s spinal cord. “There’s a simple rule I use for times like these: be at your best. Your best is always needed during these games. If you’re always working at the best you can, there’s no reason to worry.”

Yifan’s response was simple enough, and it wasn’t exactly the answer that made Junmyeon feel so weird. Rather, it was how Yifan had acted during that moment. Junmyeon could still see it plain as day.

“You cannot allow the stress or heat of the moment to affect you during a game,” Yifan said, hunched over a little to speak into Junmyeon’s recorder. “There’s a simple rule I use for times like these: be at your best. Your best is always needed during these games. If you’re always working at the best you can, there’s no reason to worry.”

Junmyeon, still as awkward and nervous as he had been when he had started the interview a couple minutes ago, nodded along. When Yifan finished talking, he changed gears.

“Well, um, that was all I had,” Junmyeon rambled, fighting the urge to slap himself because he just couldn’t stop stuttering. “Thank you very much for your time, mister Wu. I really appreciate it.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Yifan replied calmly, eyes twinkling. “Hopefully I’ll get to see you again.”

And as Yifan turned to walk away, he cast a glance over his shoulder, right eye closing for a split second in a rather flirtatious wink.

Junmyeon’s knees immediately went weak beneath him.

He swallowed thickly, and Junmyeon heaved himself out of the hotel desk chair so that he could go take his evening shower and get ready for bed. He had a long day tomorrow. Closing his laptop, Junmyeon trekked across the hotel room in the direction of the bathroom. He was fighting to ignore how there were goose bumps on his arms.

What the hell had that wink been about?

Day two was very similar to day one. Junmyeon felt like the world was spinning way too fast and he was struggling to keep up, hopping from place to place and drowning in recordings and notes. Two more games were squeezed into the second day and Junmyeon felt awfully bored watching them, as if he was itching to see more of a certain someone rather than the games themselves. He didn’t particularly care about the teams he had seen on day two either.

Day three, however, was when he was penciled in to watch another one of Yifan’s games, and although he wanted to slap himself for being so giddy over it, Junmyeon couldn’t hold in his excitement when he squeezed into the press box that evening.

Still, the game didn’t go exactly as planned. Junmyeon had been on the edge of his seat nearly the entire match, and they were deep into the third quarter when something happened. Junmyeon hadn’t been able to tell what was going on at first. The angle of the press box had not been on his side, and he strained his ears to hear the voices of the commentators discussing the situation.

“It looks like Wu, number eleven, got caught in the crossfire,” one of the commentators said, and Junmyeon felt his heart drop, now understanding why the stadium had gotten so quiet. “It’s a little hard to tell what happened, let’s check from a different angle here.”

“Seems like he got clipped during that battle for the ball after a missed throw,” the other commentator commented. “Standing under the net and got an elbow to the face, looks like there’s—Yes, there’s blood. They’re taking him off the court.”

It was when Yifan began to move, whisked away through the worried arms of his staff, that Junmyeon caught a glimpse of what was happening. Rather than appearing to be in pain, Yifan looked furious, and Junmyeon could only assume it was because they were forcing him to stop playing. There was blood flowing in thick rivulets down one half of his face, dripping off his chin and into his cupped palm. It matched the red of his jersey, clashing against his mop of snowy hair.

Junmyeon couldn’t exactly place his finger onto why he was so worried.

After being whisked away for treatment, the game continued on without Yifan. Junmyeon struggled to ignore the missing player and turned his attention back onto the court, watching the game unfold and taking hurried notes on his laptop. He saw Yifan’s tall figure eventually coming out from the crowd of staff and medical personnel. He seemed fine, though a good quarter of his face was adorned with a hefty bandage, held in place with medical tape.

He sat down on the sidelines in one of the chairs, jaw tightly set to show his unhappiness with the current situation. Junmyeon made a mental note to later ask him about his injury when the post-game interviews began.

Yifan’s team had been victorious once more. Junmyeon nestled into his chair with his laptop, tiredly rubbing his eyes as his cup of hot tea blew fumes into his face. He yawned, sleepy, as he then straightened back up to turn his attention back onto his laptop screen.

He reached down to press play on his recorder, listening to the white noise of the crowd, along with his and Yifan’s voice talking into the microphone.

Wu Yifan, number eleven, mentioned that this game did hold some disappointment for him, Junmyeon read, soaking up the characters typed upon his computer screen. He could hear the crackle of his recorder. Wu did appreciate the fact that sitting out gave the others on his team a chance to shine a little more, as the still came out of this round victorious, but being pulled out of the game was highly frustrating for him.

‘One thing I’ve always been taught is that you go down fighting,’ Wu commented. Junmyeon could hear Yifan saying those same exact words right then and there, coming out of the speaker of his tape recorder. ‘I could have kept playing, and I knew I could have, but I know the staff just want what’s best for me. It was frustrating for me to have to sit out and watch my team like that, but they didn’t want me to keep playing when I had already lost quite a bit of blood.’

When asked if his injury will keep him benched for the next game, Wu laughed.

‘It’s not that serious,’ he said. His timbre voice echoed from the recorder, in tune with Junmyeon’s reading pace. ‘Broken blood vessels and some lost blood, and probably some major bruising starting tonight, but other than that, I’m fine. I’m looking forward to getting back in the game.’

The recorder stopped, and yet, Junmyeon’s heart was still pounding away, with no sign of stopping.

The next time he saw Yifan, it was at their next game, three days later. The left half of Yifan’s face was still puffy and a little swollen, very faint hints of black and blue smudged over the curve of the socket just below his eye. It matched the color of his sneakers and the compression shorts he wore beneath his jersey uniform.

As he shuffled out and onto the court with his teammates, Yifan’s head swiveled to look over his shoulder to glance at the press box. There was Junmyeon, seated on the far end as usual. The two of them locked eyes for only a split second, but Junmyeon was not blind to the way Yifan’s lips twitched into an entertained smirk, eye briefly closing in a wink.

He didn’t know how, but even the slightest glance, grin, or chuckle from Yifan managed to drive him crazy every time without fail.

It was same old, same old for the game itself. It was a neck and neck competition this time though that left Junmyeon perched on the edge of his chair, biting on the end of one of his thumbs. It was an unprofessional look and he knew it but he couldn’t help himself, needing to keep his hands busy before he went crazy.

Then again, with Yifan’s antics, he was probably going to go insane regardless.

“I see your face is still bruised,” Junmyeon commented as he approached Yifan after the game that evening, armed with his same old recorder as always.

“Yeah, and I see that you’re still short,” Yifan replied nonchalantly. Junmyeon’s cheeks immediately reddened. A sneer broke out onto Yifan’s face then. “Two can play at this game, you know.”

Despite how many times he had already interviewed Yifan, Junmyeon never grew tired of it. He had interviewed other players on Yifan’s team as well over the course of the season so far, but interviewing Yifan was probably his most favorite part. Despite his typically unmoving face, aside from the occasional arched eyebrow or an amused smirk in one corner of his mouth, and his clipped, limited speech, Yifan was rather entertaining to talk to.

Still, this was one interview that Junmyeon was never going to forget.

It was stereotypical at first. Junmyeon ran through his questions as usual, letting Yifan talk into the recorder to document his responses. When the interview ended, Junmyeon switched off his recorder, gathering his things so that he could move on to another member of the team.

He glanced up when Yifan softly cleared his throat.

“So,” Yifan began calmly, expression unreadable when Junmyeon made eye contact with him, “does this mean the interview is over now?”

“Yes, that’s all I had,” Junmyeon answered, his head nodding once as if to confirm his words. “Was there something else you needed to talk about with me?”

“Actually, now that you mention it,” Yifan said coolly, those dark eyes twinkling with mystery, “I would like to ask if you’re free tonight to have dinner with me.”

Junmyeon blinked once, then twice, and it was then there was a distinct flash of red invading his cheeks and splashing upon the curve of his ears. He couldn’t help the way he stuttered as he spoke. “E-Excuse me?”

“I’m asking if you’re free tonight to have dinner,” Yifan repeated, calm as anything, voice level and one eyebrow quirking ever-so-slightly. “Dinner with me, to be precise.”

“O-Oh. Oh, I see,” Junmyeon stammered, struggling to ignore how hot his face suddenly felt. He was twisting his recorder around in his fingers, tinkering with it due to sudden nerves. Why did that question make him feel so nervous? His heart was suddenly racing. “Um… I mean, if you’re okay with it, s-sure.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Yifan continued, that same unreadable expression on his face that managed to drive Junmyeon crazy, because he could never seem to tell what was on Yifan’s mind.

“No! No, it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just… I don’t want to impose, or put you out, or…anything…” Junmyeon replied, his voice trailing off and into a mumble.

“It’d be my pleasure, mister Kim,” Yifan said, and Junmyeon felt goose bumps prickle into his skin at the way his name rolled off of Yifan’s tongue. It was, somehow, so simplistic but so sinful. “What do you say?”

Junmyeon gulped, unsure as to why his hands were suddenly shaking and palms sweating so much. He tightened his grip on his recorder, licking his lips as he instinctively lowered his gaze.

“Sure,” Junmyeon at last answered, his voice trembling at the edges, knees feeling abnormally weak as Yifan stared at him with curious but dark eyes. “Dinner sounds…nice.”

Junmyeon had no idea as to what he was going to wear. Yifan had told him the name of the restaurant earlier after their – in Junmyeon’s eyes – rather awkward conversation. Typical of Junmyeon, the first thing he had done was to look it up online via his phone to try to find out more information about the restaurant and the menu. It wasn’t anything close to a five-star fine dining location, and that was one of the main reasons Junmyeon felt so conflicted. It wasn’t classy enough for him to walk inside wearing a suit and tie, but he didn’t want to look like a bum either showing up in simplistic clothing like a t-shirt. In the end, he nervously fitted himself into a crisp button-up and his nicest pair of dark-washed jeans, hoping it would be sufficient.

He couldn’t help but wonder what Yifan was going to wear and the thought alone made his throat go dry. The strangest part, that made Junmyeon’s brain stutter, was trying to figure out why he was so nervous about looking nice for something as simple as dinner with Yifan.

When Junmyeon scurried into the restaurant that evening, he did feel some relief. The other customers were dressed very similar to how he was, and that was comforting. Despite working in the journalism field and interviewing strangers, Junmyeon knew he was a bit awkward, especially around people he didn’t know very well. That was downright obvious when he tried to speak to the hostess and turned into a big stuttering mess from embarrassment and nervousness. After all, it was weird, right? Here he was in a restaurant to meet a famous basketball player for dinner, a man who Junmyeon had only interviewed a couple times due to his job requirements.

Definitely weird, at least to Junmyeon.

With the assistance of the hostess, Junmyeon found Yifan seated alone at a small table in the corner. When Junmyeon approached, Yifan lifted his head, glancing up from his menu. His lips twitched into a smile as he stood up from his chair, offering Junmyeon an outstretched hand to signify a warm welcome.

“I’m glad you could make it, mister Kim,” Yifan greeted, one corner of his mouth still pulled heavenward in amusement as he sat down. Junmyeon awkwardly perched his weight into the chair across from him.

“You can just call me Junmyeon,” he replied quietly, somehow managing not to choke over his own words. “Really, there’s no need to be so formal with me.”

“Very well, Junmyeon,” Yifan drawled, and Junmyeon swallowed, a strange heat settling in the pit of his stomach then. Why did his name always sound so different when it came from Yifan’s mouth, rolling off the tip of his tongue? “Thank you for joining me.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Junmyeon murmured in reply, nodding a little out of habit as he spoke.

It was hard not to stare. Yifan had a black baseball cap pulled over his snowy hair, tugged low over his face and eyes, as if trying to blend in with the people around him and hide his identity the best he could. He was clad in a long-sleeved black shirt to accompany it, and Junmyeon couldn’t help but notice how tight it was, drawn taut over the firm muscle of Yifan’s pectorals.

Yifan breathed out a soft chuckle that made Junmyeon jump. “See something you like?”

Junmyeon’s cheeks reddened immediately. “W-Well, I—I wasn’t—“

Yifan interrupted him with a quiet laugh under his breath. He rolled his eyes as he turned his attention back onto his menu. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

Shameless. Yifan was shameless, through and through, and the realization made Junmyeon’s cheeks burn. Underneath that stoic face and those dark glimmering eyes was a man who knew what he liked and had no problem broadcasting it when the moment was right.

Junmyeon opened his mouth before he could stop himself. “Did you just—Did you just call me cute?”

That lopsided smirk wasn’t budging from Yifan’s lips. “Yeah. Why?”

If possible, Junmyeon’s face, already blotchy, darkened even further. “Mister Wu, that’s not—“

“Just Yifan is fine. I insist,” Yifan interrupted.

“Yifan, you can’t just say things like that,” Junmyeon squawked.

“Why not?” Yifan asked coolly, leaning back in his seat. “This isn’t an interview.”

Junmyeon sat there for a moment, obviously struggling to process what Yifan had just said. Yifan’s expression hadn’t changed in the slightest, showing he really didn’t care about what he had just said. Yifan’s confidence and shameless attitude was definitely a class of its own. Junmyeon couldn’t even think of what to say, merely remaining silent before awkwardly lowering his gaze to stare at his menu.

Wu Yifan thought he was cute? Now it all made perfect sense. He really hadn’t been imagining those winks had been throwing in his direction from the basketball court as Junmyeon sat in the press box. He hadn’t been hallucinating when he had suspected that Yifan had been giving him long and lingering looks. Yifan really was interested in him and Junmyeon had been trying to deny the suspicion this entire time. And… Did the sudden racing of his heart mean he was interested too?

Junmyeon swallowed thickly and tightened his grip on his menu.

Dinner had been interesting, to say the least. Well, to the extent that Junmyeon could remember, anyway. The fog in his brain was rather extensive and it was getting hard to think straight.

And he was rather distracted at the moment on top of it.

Yifan liked to flirt. Junmyeon had figured that out easily enough. The two of them shared an appetizer at their little table in the corner, talking quietly before starting on their entrées. Yifan had selected a bottle of wine for them to share, despite Junmyeon objecting. But Yifan waved him away, saying the bill was going to be on him regardless. Junmyeon had known then and there he wasn’t going to win, and decided to let it go; if Yifan was fighting to pay the bill then Junmyeon would let him.

He hadn’t heard Yifan talk so much before. Even then, he wasn’t a chatterbox, his speech calm and collected and pausing when need be to let Junmyeon talk. It was just more speaking than Junmyeon was used to hearing come out of his mouth and he didn’t mind it.

They discussed their jobs a little. Yifan asked him about his work assignment and Junmyeon told him, albeit with a little initial hesitance, that he was covering for the remainder of the basketball season, up to the finals. Yifan nodded along and when Junmyeon asked how basketball was treating him at the moment, Yifan answered the best he could. There was only so much the two of them could discuss about work, trying not to influence each other too much or spill too much information that was meant to be kept a secret.

For Junmyeon, it was a bit awkward, seeing that he and Yifan still didn’t know each other very well. It was a bit disappointing, because he already knew there was so much more for them to uncover about each other, but now wasn’t the time.

So they changed gears instead, dipping their toes into subjects that revolved less around their employment and more around their personal lives. It was small, harmless things at first. Junmyeon admitted he wasn’t the sporty type and his sport interest was limited to mainly only golf. Yifan told him about his love of dogs and that he was itching to get one, but was waiting for the right time. Junmyeon mentioned that during college, he initially hadn’t even planned to become a journalist.

Yifan’s lip curled up into a knowing smirk right then and there.

“Well, I’m glad you decided to give it a chance,” Yifan said, tipping his head back and downing the remainder of his glass of wine. Junmyeon had already finished his first one and it was making him buzzed. He could remember Yifan’s comment when he poured them each a glass. Medium-high alcohol content, pinot noir, aged three years and originally from France. “After all, if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be a journalist now, and I would’ve never gotten the chance to meet someone as beautiful as you.”

Junmyeon’s stomach twisted at those words and his blood began to boil, but he couldn’t tell if the heat in his face was from the alcohol or a flush of embarrassment.

“You’re spacing out,” a voice then said, snapping him back to reality. “Look at me, mister Kim.”

Junmyeon had never expected for dinner to end up like this.

It had started off normal enough. Dinner and discussion. They slowly learned a bit more about one another, piece by piece, talking over their meal. Yifan had no problems flirting with him, and as they drank, the less embarrassed Junmyeon became from hearing those words.

He didn’t even have words for how it felt to hear Yifan calling him attractive.

The last basketball match had been a home game, so they were still within the sprawl of Yifan’s city. Junmyeon, on business, intended to head back to his hotel. But things didn’t always go as planned and they didn’t then either.

“I’m glad you decided to come to dinner with me,” Yifan said as he stood with Junmyeon outside of the restaurant. Night was upon them, streetlights glowing in the darkness and the hum of cars echoing on the roads. “I had a nice time.”

“I did too,” Junmyeon agreed, blinking a few times. His vision was playing tricks on him, fuzzy from intoxication. “You’re actually really fun to talk to.”

“I could say the same about you. And you’re such a sight to look at on top of it,” Yifan murmured shamelessly, suddenly reaching out with one hand and gingerly grasping Junmyeon by the chin. His large fingers hooked beneath the bone there and tilted Junmyeon’s head upwards to look him in the eye. “I want to see you again, mister Kim.”

Junmyeon inhaled sharply. His brain couldn’t keep up. His voice was a slurred squeak. “Why?”

Yifan’s lips spread in a mischievous smirk. “Because I really like you.”

That was when Yifan kissed him. They had been standing on the sidewalk right then and there outside of the restaurant after dinner and had kissed one another. Yifan led, placing a simplistic kiss upon Junmyeon’s lips as he continued to hold him by the chin. And although he was tipsy, Junmyeon couldn’t forget how he had felt that evening. How his stomach flopped, his palms sweated, how his heart raced.

I think I like you too, his brain had commented, but Junmyeon couldn’t put that thought into words because his mouth was too busy, pressed against Yifan’s own. So, to instead show his approval, Junmyeon, with quivering fingers, let his hands crawl heavenward to cup Yifan’s jawbone in his small palms before crushing their mouths together all over again, kissing Yifan with every ounce of passion he had inside of him.

He could have sworn he felt Yifan moan softly against his mouth. His hands wandered then, coming to roughly grip Junmyeon’s waist, his lips moving in bruising kisses against Junmyeon’s own.

“I’ve heard how you stutter when you talk to me. I’ve seen how you look at me. I know you want me. Come home with me.”

Junmyeon hadn’t been able to predict it even if he had tried. The way that command dripped from Yifan’s mouth made his insides catch fire and he nodded frantically at that moment, obedient, desperate. It was a blur. He could recall clambering into a cab with Yifan, and the next thing he knew, he was shoved into the elevator of Yifan’s apartment building. Yifan had him pinned to the wall, hands powerful and kisses rough and wanting. The building was quiet and they were both gasping for breath when the elevator doors slid open to let them tumble out of the metal box. Yifan practically dragged him in the direction of his apartment, slamming his key into the lock before shoving the door open wide.

It all escalated from there. The wine made his brain hazy. He wasn’t drunk, but he was definitely buzzed, and yet, Junmyeon didn’t care. There had been so many denials so far that Junmyeon just couldn’t take any more of them, instead caving in and obeying the desperate and powerful urges of his body. Yifan devoured him, swallowing his moans greedily as he kissed the breath out of him, tongue practically shoved down Junmyeon’s throat as he forced him in the direction of his bedroom.

And the next thing he knew, he was naked, shoved down into Yifan’s soft gray sheets. Kisses, moans, desperate gasps. Yifan’s hand yanking open the drawer of his nightstand and drizzling lube over his fingers.

Junmyeon, at that moment, wasn’t sure if he wanted anything more in his entire life.

“Oh, fuck—“ Junmyeon swore, his back instinctively arching as Yifan’s third finger prodded inside of him. It was dripping wet with lube and pressed in with some effort, slipping deep inside alongside the other two digits that already filled his insides. The sudden addition was painful and for a brief second, too much. Junmyeon’s eyes pinched shut and he huffed, willing himself to relax, feeling Yifan’s fingers slide deeper inside of them then. Yifan had such large fingers, long and tapered and yet so big, and he couldn’t help but groan as they pressed against his walls to stretch him out and spread him open for what was to soon come.

“I’m not even fucking you yet,” Yifan whispered in response to his curse, and Junmyeon whined, feeling Yifan’s lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of his neck to place a teasing nip against his pulse point. He felt Yifan suddenly push, his fingers somehow managing to press even further inside of him until his knuckles were wedged firm against the soft skin of his ass. “Do my fingers alone make you that horny, mister Kim?”

Junmyeon didn’t reply initially, his brain still spinning as he tried to keep up with what was happening. He did, however, let out a sharp and startled moan as Yifan crooked his fingers roughly, grazing against that bundle of nerves planted deep within him.

“I asked you a question,” Yifan murmured, voice low and deep with arousal as he waited for a reply.

Junmyeon couldn’t find his voice though, merely nodding weakly as he arched his back off the mattress, moaning brokenly when Yifan pulled his fingers back for a second. They were glistening with lube and Yifan suddenly shoved them back inside, spreading them open wide and stretching him fully all at once. And Junmyeon just couldn’t shut up, panting and groaning as his hole fluttered pathetically around the girth, clenching his fingers helplessly into the sheets.

“Look at you. You’re this turned on, all just from my fingers,” Yifan commented, his tone still rumbling and quiet as he reached up with his free hand to roughly fist his remaining digits about Junmyeon’s cock. He pumped it twice, rough and quick, before letting his thumb wander to the slit where the precum was pooling. He smeared it down the shaft, eyes hooded with desire as Junmyeon cried out sharply beneath him. “You’re soaking wet.”

“Y-Yifan, please,” Junmyeon moaned pathetically, toes curling and knuckles whitening as he twisted his fingers around in the bedding. Yifan was right and he knew it, able to feel the precum slowly dampening his torso as his cock rested heavily against his belly. “I—I n-need—“

“Need what?” Yifan interrupted, his dark eyes twinkling as if he knew what was coming next.

“I n-need more,” Junmyeon gritted out, cheeks tinting pink in shame as he arched his back weakly, his hole boring down viciously on Yifan’s fingers. “Just—f-fuck me—“

Yifan chuckled softly in the back of his throat. “That’s all you had to say.”

By the time Yifan bent over him, Junmyeon could have sworn he had already lost his mind from how horny he was. He was burning up and sweating and panting, his dick flushed and aching. Yifan took a brief second to finish undressing himself and for last minute prep, licking his lips in concentration as he rolled on a condom he had fished out of his nightstand before settling between Junmyeon’s quivering legs.

“I’ll fuck you all night,” Yifan whispered, sweat pooling in his hairline as one hand pawed at Junmyeon’s ass, holding him open with the pressure of a few fingers. Junmyeon threw his head back, teeth already gritted in preparation as he felt the tip of Yifan’s cock prodding at his entrance. “I’ll fuck your goddamn brains out.”

He pushed in then, one hand wrapped around himself and the other pressing at Junmyeon’s thigh to hold his pelvis a little higher in the air to give himself more space. Junmyeon’s cry was loud and desperate, struggling to relax as he felt Yifan push himself in a little more. It was disgusting and arousing all at once, listening to it, hearing the wet squelch of lube as Yifan gradually entered. He had already felt the stretch when Yifan shoved in the head of his cock, but lying there and taking inch after inch after inch, Junmyeon wondered just how much more, how much deeper, how much fuller could he possibly get—

“Oh, fuck,” Yifan moaned, his hands clutching the insides of Junmyeon’s thighs possessively, holding his legs open as he, at last, was balls deep. Junmyeon was panting desperately as Yifan bent himself in half, hovering over him. He could have sworn Yifan was talking to him, but Junmyeon couldn’t reply, nothing coming out of his mouth but incoherent gargles and gasps and whines. He couldn’t even think, only able to focus on how full he was, feeling like he was choking on his own breaths because he had never been so stuffed in his entire life. Yifan stole a quick kiss from him, but not on the mouth, as Junmyeon’s was hanging wide open as he wheezed and gasped pathetically, but instead, on his jawline. “You’re so damn tight, feel so fucking good—“

Yifan readjusted himself then, leaning down between Junmyeon’s spread legs to plant his hands firmly on the mattress on either side of Junmyeon’s skull, caging him with his arms. His hips gently rocked backwards, his cock slipping out only a little before wedging fully back inside, and Junmyeon, unable to find his voice, bobbed his head weakly as if approving. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell Yifan he was ready, but Yifan seemed to understand regardless, a hungry look of pure desire in his eyes as the muscles in his arms tensed.

His hips rolled once more, pulling himself out partially before he slammed back inside, grinning breathlessly to himself as Junmyeon shrieked beneath him. And apparently, the noises coming out of his mouth were the best form of encouragement, because Yifan was picking up the pace, going anything but easy on him at this point. Junmyeon’s mouth was hanging wide open, drool collecting in one corner as he moaned loudly and pathetically, the noise blurring together with the repetitive wet slaps of skin meeting skin as Yifan fucked him. His brain had shut itself off already, and all he could do was lie there and take it, and take it, and take it, groaning and gurgling and vision blurring as the head of Yifan’s cock viciously scraped at his walls and plowed over and over again into his prostate.

Junmyeon’s moans were increasing in pitch, veins in his neck cording and saliva dribbling sloppily down his chin as he drowned in white-hot pleasure. He couldn’t speak and his chest was desperately rising and falling as he struggled to suck down enough air, choking on his own breaths due to how full he was. He was trapped, his eyes crossing as he struggled to focus on Yifan’s face. Sweat dripped off the curve of his chin and splattered onto Junmyeon’s chest, his teeth gritted in concentration as he twisted his large fingers into the bedding. He could see the curve of muscle under Yifan’s skin tightening with exertion, biceps coiling, broad shoulders tense, his pelvis smacking roughly against Junmyeon’s ass with every push and shove. In, out, a friction so hot it had tears forming in Junmyeon’s eyes, leaking from the corners as he felt the bulbous tip of Yifan’s cock scraping against the pleasure points within him before roughly grinding up and against that bundle of nerves, shoving forward so hard it had Junmyeon’s eyes rolling back in his head in ecstasy.

And, it made him explode. Junmyeon didn’t even have the chance to warn Yifan, both from the suddenness and how he couldn’t talk, merely letting out a choked cry as he blew. Yifan fucked him through it, snarling as his hands moved south to force Junmyeon’s legs open even wider, slamming in as hard as he could possibly manage now. And Junmyeon just couldn’t stop, losing his mind as he felt that thick cock pounding away at him, his own dick jerking and squirting his enthusiasm all over himself in yet another agonizing pulse.

At long last, Yifan also found his release, a pleased groan passing his lips. His fingers bit down on the inside of Junmyeon’s thighs, holding his legs open as wide as he shoved in as deep as he could, letting himself go immediately after. Junmyeon, boneless beneath him, was panting pathetically, drenched in sweat as he felt Yifan softly rock himself back and forth in an attempt of milking himself dry, until there was nothing left. And as he finished, Yifan slowly pulled out, his shoulders heaving as he tried to regain some breath as well.

“Damn, you look so good like this,” Yifan muttered, his voice cracking as he sat back on his haunches tiredly. “Almost makes me wish I came inside you just so I could see the complete image.”

Junmyeon knew he looked a mess. Flushed skin, dripping with sweat, stained with semen. He wasn’t exactly proud of how he had burst literally all over himself, messy trails of cum on his belly, his chest, a glob on his neck. He was loose and wet and he swallowed at Yifan’s words, wondering just how much filthier he would look packed full of Yifan’s release and watching it slowly leak out of him.

Yifan clambered off the bed, momentarily leaving him alone. He could hear the faint sound of running water from his bathroom, the opening and closing of cabinet doors. By the time Yifan emerged from the bathroom with a washcloth in his hands, Junmyeon’s eyes were already closing. Tipsy and fucked out, he didn’t stand a chance anymore, and against his better judgment, Junmyeon fell asleep before the warm fabric of the washcloth even settled against his skin.

He slept. He slept long and he slept hard, slumbering off his orgasm and the alcohol that thrummed in his blood. When he awoke, it was already morning, birds tweeting outside of Yifan’s apartment window and morning rays spilling over the bed. Junmyeon laid there for a moment, staring, dazed, at the ceiling before it fully dawned on him what he had done.

He and Yifan had slept together.

Had he lost his mind? This was dangerous territory for the both of them and Junmyeon knew it. Lying there in Yifan’s bed, Junmyeon bit his lip as he stared at the ocean of white above him. He didn’t regret it, however. He had spent so long wondering if there was something about him that Yifan was interested in, and that was a big obvious yes at this point in time. Junmyeon hadn’t been too sure if he had felt something in return for the man, but after last night, feeling so warm and itching for more when Yifan flirted with him, well, that was a wakeup call that perhaps Junmyeon liked him far more than he had initially thought.

It took some effort, as he was sore, but Junmyeon managed to roll over. The other half of the bed was cold and empty, and for a moment, Junmyeon wondered if he had been abandoned, tossed aside in the ashes of a one-night stand. But on Yifan’s nightstand was a note, scrawled in messy letters upon a sticky note.

‘Had early practice. Didn’t want to wake you. Feel free to help yourself to whatever food you want, there’s plenty in the fridge. Text me. This is my number. I really want to see you again, mister Kim. – Yifan. PS, I still need to get used to calling you Junmyeon’

With a fluttering heart, Junmyeon smiled to himself as he crumpled the note into the folds of his palm, before exhaustedly settling back down on the mattress, and lazily soaking up the rays of morning sunshine.

Junmyeon was sore, even when he at last clambered out of Yifan’s bed later. He treated himself to a much-needed shower and a piece of fruit he found in Yifan’s kitchen before he called it quits. He had somewhere to be after all, but he definitely didn’t forget to take the note with him, adorned with the scrawled shapes of Yifan’s phone number.

It was a struggle to hide his limping from Jongdae when he met his coworker for lunch that afternoon, and he didn’t exactly pull it off how he intended.

Jongdae’s face was twisted with confusion. “What happened to you? You’re walking weird.”

“I, uh,” Junmyeon began, trying not to start sweating bullets right then and there, “fell down the stairs.”

Thankfully, he was a rather clumsy individual at times, so Jongdae seemed to believe him. Either that, or he didn’t want to know the truth, so he merely nodded slowly in response and let the conversation go.

“Alright, well,” Jongdae began, reaching down and into his bag he had sitting on the floor to extract his battered journal he was using to take notes for the season. “If you’re up to it, let’s talk about the games.”

“Sure,” Junmyeon agreed, thankful that Jongdae didn’t press the matter any further. “Did something happen?”

“A few last-minute changes,” Jongdae explained. “I need you to cover Saturday night’s game for me. I can provide you with a copy of my notes and current write-ups so you can see how the season is currently treating the two teams, so you won’t be going in unaware of what’s going on. Game starts at seven.”

“That’s fine,” Junmyeon merely smiled tiredly and nodded, obedient as always. “Getting to see some new teams play would be a nice change of pace, I suppose.”

When Jongdae had asked for him to cover the game for him, Junmyeon had agreed without argument. It gave him more exposure and an opportunity to interview some new people as well. The match tonight was going to be between two teams Junmyeon had yet to see play in person, so that was going to be a little exciting. Some changes in his repetitive life were always welcomed.

There was, however, a sudden curveball thrown in his direction. Junmyeon had started researching the teams during his downtime so that he wouldn’t be going in totally blind, and he was halfway through reading up on the player profiles when something caught his eye.

Kris Wu, forward and team captain, the online article read. One hundred and eighty-seven centimeters tall, number ten, and from Vancouver.

It felt like an extreme case of déjà vu, because as Junmyeon sat there, staring at the screen of his laptop, it was as if he had already met this person. This man named Kris already shared part of his name with Yifan, and that was strange enough, but it was even more odd that the two had identical heights. They were only three years apart; Yifan was twenty-seven and Kris was twenty-four. But what really threw Junmyeon for a loop was Kris’ appearance. His hair was a rich black, cut short and strewn wildly. But his face, his face was another story entirely.

It felt like the world had stopped because Kris looked just like Yifan.

Junmyeon was almost instantly on a wild goose chase, opening several tabs on his internet to begin researching all that he could. Surely, Kris and Yifan were related, and no one told him, right? But, no, apparently not. Junmyeon dug high and low for information regarding the two men, but he had no leads. They were not related. Yifan, according to every source Junmyeon could find, was an only child, and definitely didn’t have a twin. His family was living in China. Kris had similar circumstances, also an only child and having come from Vancouver to play basketball.

There were supposedly seven people in the world who looked just like you. Junmyeon hadn’t thought that it was a true statement, but apparently it was, and two men who looked the same were both enrolled in a national league for basketball.

Just when Junmyeon had thought he had seen it all, the world threw him for a loop yet again.

Despite how similar the two appeared, Kris and Yifan were on nearly polar opposites in terms of behavior. Yifan was always so calm and collected, equipped with stoic expressions and well-planned movements and speech. But Kris wasn’t like that. Even from his seat in the press box, Junmyeon could tell the difference between the two of them. Kris had a lot of energy, and he never seemed to hold still, constantly moving around and talking with his teammates. While Yifan rarely smiled, Kris never seemed to stop, a line of pink gums protruding from between his lips when he smiled or laughed too hard.

And one major difference was that Kris was horribly clumsy. The game had yet to start and yet, Kris had already tripped over his own two feet twice, somehow managing not to fall flat of his face. He would stumble and when his teammates glanced at him in concern, Kris would just laugh it off as if nothing had even happened.

Junmyeon, settled comfortably in his seat, smiled to himself. He had to admit, it was cute.

Still, Kris seemed like a different person almost when he played. He was still clumsy, occasionally tripping over himself and barely managing to stay up on his own two feet, but he managed. His face hardened in concentration as he played as well, that constant smile that Junmyeon had seen off the court fizzling away entirely. Despite his tendency to stumble, Kris was actually a very talented player. Majority of the points were racked in because of him and yet, Kris didn’t let it get to his head. By the time the match was over, Kris was the first to gather his teammates around to share steady handshakes and thankful but sweaty hugs.

With a final score of one hundred and fifteen to ninety-seven, Kris’ team came out victorious, and it had been a while since Junmyeon was itching this much to interview someone.

Interviewing Kris was a lot different from interviewing Yifan. The first time he had interviewed Yifan, Junmyeon had been horrendously nervous, fumbling with his recorder and palms slick with anxious sweat and his limbs shaking and he couldn’t stop stuttering. With Kris, that thankfully was not an issue. Despite being the same height as Yifan, Kris did not have the same intimidating aura that Yifan did. It reminded Junmyeon of a cartoon almost, with Kris being a big clumsy but friendly giant.

“I’m Kim Junmyeon,” he said, introducing himself so smoothly, unlike how he had stuttered and choked on his own name when he had spoken to Yifan for the first time. “Do you happen to have a few minutes to answer some questions for me?”

“Sure! It’s nice to meet you by the way. I’m Kris,” the taller male answered, and to Junmyeon’s surprise, offered him an outstretched hand. Junmyeon hesitantly reached out to accept it, blinking in shock when Kris gave him a hefty handshake, nearly popping his shoulder in the process.

He was much stronger than he looked.

“Alright, so, tell me a bit about your routine. I know your team is still considered a rookie one, but you all are climbing the ranks extremely fast,” Junmyeon began, “is there anything particular you do to prepare for games?”

“Honestly, it’s just a lot of practice. The more you practice, the better you will be at, well, pretty much anything,” Kris answered, loosely shrugging his broad shoulders as he spoke into Junmyeon’s recorder. “The team and I practice together a lot and we just try to be there to support one another. Having a good support system is definitely beneficial when the pressure is on for big games like these. It helps you stay grounded. Oh, and, well, food. Food is important too. I typically gain weight during this time of year since I start eating a lot more with the constant practice and ‘need energy for games’ thing.”

Kris fell silent for a moment before it seemed to click in his brain, what he had just said.

“Is that weird?” Kris then asked, chin wrinkling as he frowned. “That was probably weird of me to admit.”

“No, no, it wasn’t weird at all,” Junmyeon said quickly, unable to stop himself from laughing. “I appreciate your honesty. Can you tell me more about your preparation? I know you mentioned you guys practice a lot and I’m sure there are lots of things in your routine. Do you plan on changing up anything to prepare for your next game?”

“I think, for me personally, I need to try to focus on taking care of myself a little more before the next game. Practice and prep is important but if you push yourself too hard you can really hurt yourself,” Kris answered.

“Did the game go as expected for you?” Junmyeon then asked.

“Honestly, no, it didn’t,” Kris said, pursing his lips for a moment in thought. “This season has overall been very surprising for us. We’ve all been working extremely hard, and we finally managed to make it. We’ve all had dreams of making it to the playoffs, but for us to advance this far – even though we’re only halfway through – well, it means the world to us. Someday, we want to win the finals.”

“With your winning streak so far this season, that may be a possibility for you now,” Junmyeon explained. “How do you feel about that statement?”

Kris mulled it over before his face suddenly lit up, beaming in happiness. “Just thinking about it makes me feel amazing. If that could come true for us this season, I think I’d be the happiest man alive.”

Junmyeon found himself smiling in return without even intending it. “I see. Well, Kris, that was all I had for today. Thank you very much for your time and hopefully I will get to interview you again sometime.”

“No, thank you! I’m glad I got to talk with you. It was nice,” Kris replied, nodding with vigor. “I hope I get to see you again sometime too, your interviews aren’t as stiff as some of the other people I’ve talked to about this stuff.”

Kris turned then, obviously intending on walking away so that Junmyeon could leave. However, typical for Kris, his clumsiness came at the worst of times. Tripping over himself just like always, Kris went tumbling forward, and on reflex, Junmyeon lunged. He caught Kris by the back of the jersey, fisting his hand into blue fabric and yanking on it to try to prevent Kris from falling face-first onto the court. But he seemed to have done more harm than good, because it made Kris reel backwards, and then, the two of them were dissolving into an awkward flailing of limbs. Junmyeon was struggling to maintain his footing and Kris desperately flung his hands out to grab hold of him, desperate not to fall. The recorder tumbled from Junmyeon’s fingers and the two of them both fumbled for it, batting it around wildly before, at long last, as the two stopped moving, Kris, who was gripping Junmyeon with one arm, managed to catch the recorder in his free hand.

Junmyeon, clutching Kris around the waist with both hands, coughed awkwardly.

“I’m so sorry,” Kris immediately blurted, his face tinting bright red as he hurriedly peeled himself off of Junmyeon. His hand was enormous, Junmyeon noticed, his recorder looking so awfully tiny in Kris’ fingers as he extended it back to him. “I really didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s alright. Accidents happen,” Junmyeon said, managing to somehow regain his composure as he took the recorder back from Kris.

“It’s not alright. I could have really hurt you!” Kris whined, uneasiness in his eyes as he scrunched down and into himself in shame. “And I nearly broke your recorder.”

“Kris, seriously, it’s okay,” Junmyeon stressed, “it was just an accident.”

“I feel bad though,” Kris admitted with no shame, biting his lower lip roughly. “Can I do something to make it up to you? Are you hungry? Let me buy you something for dinner.”

Junmyeon roughly shook his head. “Kris, that isn’t necessary—“

But Kris wasn’t having it. “Please, I insist, let me make it up to you.”

When Junmyeon paused to stare at him, Kris’ eyebrows were upturned with worry. His cheeks were pink due to embarrassment and Junmyeon had to admit, the way he was shyly twisting the hem of his jersey between his fingers was downright cute.

Junmyeon couldn’t say no to those puppy dog eyes.

It dawned on Junmyeon far too late that this was how he had wound up getting far too close to Yifan. Yifan had treated him to dinner as well and things had spun on a dime. Next thing Junmyeon knew, their previous tension was overflowing and Yifan was fucking him into his mattress.

With Kris, thankfully, there didn’t seem to be any tension. Kris really did feel bad about the incident on the court and was just trying to make it up to Junmyeon, treating him to a casual dinner at a restaurant near the stadium.

“I’m really glad that you decided to come meet me,” Kris said after Junmyeon sat down across from him at the table. He looked different outside of his jersey, black hair washed and combed now with bangs swept over his eyes. His long-sleeved shirt and matching red pleather jacket contrasted sharply against the darkness of his hair and irises. It was a crisp and mature look, but the way Kris was pouting a little in shyness and embarrassment only made him look years younger than he really was. “I still feel kinda bad about earlier.”

Cute. But instead of broadcasting that thought out loud, Junmyeon merely nodded, a smile creeping onto his face as he pushed his chair in closer to the edge of the table. “I already told you it’s no problem. Accidents happen. And nothing was broken, so really, there’s no reason to feel guilty.”

Kris huffed a little. “Still, sometimes I make people mad because I’m so klutzy. I’ve bumped into other reporters before by mistake or other things like that and they got mad at me, so…”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that. I don’t get angry very often, especially over something like that,” Junmyeon murmured.

“I’m really happy to hear that.” Kris’ face lit up all over again, that trademark grin with spread lips and glittering teeth appearing with no warning. His fingers tightened against the slick material of his menu. “I think you have to be the nicest journalist I’ve ever met, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon couldn’t put his finger on why that compliment made him feel so warm.

Kris hadn’t been exaggerating when he had mentioned he liked to eat. He was messy, in more of a child-like way than a disgusting way. There was ketchup stained in the corner of his mouth from where he had bitten into his chicken sandwich, chewing thoughtfully as he stared at Junmyeon from across the table with big and curious eyes.

“So you originally didn’t want to be a journalist at all?” he asked, surprise scribbled across his features. “What were you wanting to be before you decided to switch to journalism?”

“I was never completely sure, to be honest. A part of me had thought about maybe the veterinary field, but then I realized I sucked at science,” Junmyeon said with a soft laugh. “And I doubt I’d be able to put sick animals to sleep. I’d probably wind up with a severely guilty conscience and crying every day.”

Kris looked mortified, dropping one of his french fries back onto his plate. “I don’t wanna think about that. I love my dog a lot. I can’t imagine losing him like that.”

Junmyeon blinked. “You have a dog?”

“I do! He’s very small and very brown and very cute,” Kris bragged, grinning as he bit into his fry. “His name is Rourou. I’m letting him stay with my family for now though since I’m so busy with basketball, and it wouldn’t be fair to him to make him stay home alone all day, you know?”

“Understandable,” Junmyeon agreed, smiling as he reached for his drink. “If you don’t mind me asking, what got you into basketball?”

“Hm. Nothing specific, at least that I can remember. I started playing when I was in elementary school, and I really liked it,” Kris said with a thoughtful hum. “I’ve always been pretty big compared to my classmates so that helped too, I guess. But yeah, like I said, I started playing and just fell in love with it. It’s something I’ve really enjoyed for a long time and never wanted to give up doing.”

“Passion is definitely a good thing to have. Just think, you started playing as a child and you didn’t quit,” Junmyeon said with a warm smile on his face, “and now here you are as an adult, playing for a famous league and on your way to the finals.”

“It feels like I’m dreaming,” Kris admitted, momentarily raising his hands to cup his pinkened cheeks in his palms. “When I was a kid, I always wanted to be in the league and actually make it. And now I’m actually doing it. It feels like I’m going to wake up at any second.”

“You’re already awake,” Junmyeon replied. “You aren’t dreaming.”

Hands still cupped over his cheeks, Kris’ lips pulled upwards into that same grin. He really did seem like a kid right then, happiness visibly pouring out of him. Junmyeon had never been a big dreamer, but to hear that Kris had accomplished something that he had always wanted to do, to see how happy he was to complete that biggest dream of his, well, it was enough to warm Junmyeon’s heart.

The two of them continued to talk over dinner, and Junmyeon had to admit, chatting with Kris like that about anything and everything was a nice change. Aside from Jongdae, Junmyeon didn’t talk to people very often. Sure, he was a journalist, and he conducted interviews on a variety of strangers, but it was different. Running through a list of questions that he had pre-selected was so different from having a conversation where he was able to talk freely and just get to know a person better.

At the end of their dinner, Kris seemed like he had something on his mind, pausing in licking his vanilla ice cream off of his spoon to give Junmyeon an uncertain glance.

“Can I tell you something without freaking you out?” Kris then suddenly asked, seeming nervous all of a sudden.

Junmyeon arched a single eyebrow. “Why on earth would you freak me out? Go for it, I doubt I’ll mind.”

“Okay. Um, Junmyeon,” Kris then began, and there was a bit of shakiness around the edges of his voice, “there’s something I want to say, and, well. Uh. Your eyes.”

“My eyes…?” Junmyeon began uncertainly.

“Your eyes are…” Kris started once more, sucking in a hesitant breath before spitting it out. “Your eyes are like two ocean pools.”

Junmyeon just sat there for a long moment, processing what Kris had just said to him. He blinked a couple times, as if unsure of what he had just heard, before something in his brain clicked. Kris was trying to flirt with him.

Trying, was the key word.

“My eyes are brown,” Junmyeon then deadpanned before he could stop himself, watching Kris’ face break out into sheer panic.

“Oh, yeah, I—Uh,” he stuttered. “They’re like, um, two. Two pools of… Of…”

“Of…?” Junmyeon asked.

“Of,” Kris stammered, “of mud.”

Junmyeon just stared at him, unsure if he should feel offended or not. He wasn’t, however. Kris’ side of the table was literally shaking because Kris was bouncing his leg so hard out of anxiety and there was a look of sheer panic on his face as he stared at Junmyeon from across the table, eyes open big and wide and glazed over with fear. He was trying so damn hard to flirt with Junmyeon and the fact was that he sucked at it entirely.

Junmyeon suddenly busted out laughing then, sinking back in his chair and wrapping his arms around his stomach as he did so because he was reaching the point where his laughter hurt him. As Kris’ expression began to morph into one of disappointment and shame, Junmyeon spoke up.

“You can’t flirt, but at least you try,” Junmyeon then said. “You’re cute.”

Kris perked up a little then. “What did you say?”

“I said you’re cute,” Junmyeon repeated, meaning every word he said. He leaned forward once more, offering Kris a cheeky smile as he managed to stop laughing. “Like I said, you can’t flirt, but you’re trying, and it’s adorable.”

He could have sworn Kris’ smile could have powered an entire city on its own.

Junmyeon couldn’t sleep.

He was at a loss. Dinner with Kris had gone smoothly, and it was obvious that Kris had a massive crush on him already. The failed attempts of flirting were cute and Junmyeon meant every word he said. It was charming in its own special way, hearing Kris try to make him blush. He failed horribly, but he did his best. By the time they finished their meal, and exited the restaurant, Kris gently caught him by the wrist before Junmyeon could venture off in search of his rental car.

“Junmyeon, I’m glad I got to do this with you tonight. I had a good time, and I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” Kris then said, holding Junmyeon’s wrist firmly but gently within the bind of his large fingers. “I hope this doesn’t make things too weird.”

“It doesn’t,” Junmyeon replied honestly, smiling gently at the larger male. “Don’t worry about it.”

Kris licked his lips and tightened his grip. “Can I give you a kiss good night?”

Oh, man, how could he argue with that? Kris looked so hopeful when he asked that, dark eyes shiny with adoration. After a moment of mental debating, Junmyeon merely nodded, unable to find his voice as he watched Kris’ face break out into a wide smile, deciding to let Kris have his way.

And Kris kissed him, gentle and loving, right then and there.

He didn’t know Kris very well yet, but Junmyeon would have been lying if he was to say he didn’t harbor any attraction for him. The guy was cute and clumsy and although he couldn’t flirt his way out of wet paper bag, he had charms in other ways. His lips were still tingling a little from that kiss, and it had felt so different from how Yifan kissed him.

That was what was keeping Junmyeon awake.

Was he a cheater? He had already both kissed and slept with Yifan, and now here he was, getting too comfortable with another guy and letting Kris kiss him too. Kris had even discreetly slipped a little piece of paper into his palm after their kiss, complete with a line of numbers and a big cheesy smiley face beneath it, clearly showing he was interested.

It was fine, wasn’t it? After all, he and Yifan were not a couple. Yifan was not his boyfriend. They had slept together, yes, but they weren’t going out. He couldn’t be cheating on Yifan when they weren’t even a couple to begin with, right? Right. Of course.

He wasn’t going to worry about it anymore until he absolutely had to.

Junmyeon felt like he was choking underneath the intricate knot of his necktie. Suits and ties were something that, despite his occupation, he had never quite gotten accustomed to wearing. Junmyeon always felt too stiff and stuffy in suits and ties always seemed to strangle the life out of him, but he had no choice. With the semifinals approaching, promotional events were beginning to crop up one by one. As a journalist, Junmyeon needed to attend several of them. After all, these types of events were organized by people just like him so that he and others could interview multiple players at one time. With games being hosted in several different cities, it wasn’t common to have multiple teams all lingering within the same town at once.

That was one reason he had found it so easy to switch his attention between Kris and Yifan over the past few weeks. They were all busy with work and lodged in different regions of the world due to their jobs, so aside from Junmyeon’s post-game interviews, Junmyeon didn’t get the opportunity to see either one of them. He relied heavily on text messages. He had been sending and receiving plenty of them lately, chatting with Kris and Yifan both during his downtime.

But, Junmyeon was beginning to realize that he was backed into a corner. He had received a text from both Kris and Yifan at separate times that evening, both regarding the same subject. They’re having a promotional dinner tonight and the team is going, they both had said, are you coming too? I want to see you.

Perhaps that was why he was so reluctant to head into the venue.

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” Jongdae complained loudly, practically tugging Junmyeon along by the collar of suit jacket. He at last gave him mercy as the two of them stood outside of the heavy main doors. “It’s not that big of a deal. You’ve interviewed countless players already this season, and you’ve been to tons of dinners! Just treat this as any old ordinary night.”

Easier said than done, Junmyeon thought to himself, swallowing thickly and feeling his adam’s apple press uncomfortably against the knot of his tie.

Still, at least Jongdae had been right about one thing, and that was that the event was like any old ordinary dinner promotion that Junmyeon had attended in the past. The venue was rather crowded, and Junmyeon hoped he could blend in with the tall ensemble of basketball players enough to avoid Kris and Yifan. There were many other men standing around talking with drinks in their hands and Junmyeon, having already lost sight of Jongdae, squeezed past a group of men huddled together chatting to try to get himself a drink.

“Junmyeon!” a voice called, sounding way too close to him, and Junmyeon felt his heart plummet into the soles of his feet as he held onto his cup of water.

When he turned, he had to do a doubletake. It was Kris, smiling widely at him as always. His black hair was slicked back meticulously and his lanky frame seemed so different underneath the layers of his white button-up and blue tie and matching gray suit jacket and pants. Junmyeon had to take a moment to collect himself, thrown for a loop because Kris looked ridiculously unlike himself right then.

“Kris?” Junmyeon then deadpanned, mouth briefly hanging open before Junmyeon reminded himself to close it. He swallowed thickly, trying not to stare. Kris even had a rather expensive looking silver earring dangling from his left earlobe. “You look…great.”

“I do?” Kris asked, his smile creeping out a few additional millimeters. “Thank you! I’m so glad to hear you say that. I don’t wear suits a whole lot so sometimes I worry that I look out of place in them.”

“Don’t feel out of place,” Junmyeon practically croaked. “You look good. I mean it.”

The swell of Kris’ cheeks flushed a rather flattering shade of pink, and he sheepishly raised one hand to rub the back of his neck. “Don’t, you’re embarrassing me. And really, you look amazing too. Black looks great on you. How come you didn’t answer my text? I didn’t even think you were going to come.”

Junmyeon licked his lips and lowered his gaze, lying through his teeth. “I was, um, busy.”

“Oh, I totally understand that. This season has been crazy. But, well, regardless! I’m so glad you decided to show up,” Kris said, beaming. “We can catch up! I can introduce you to some people too, if you would like.”

Kris leaned down then, and Junmyeon froze, unsure as to what was about to happen. Thankfully, Kris spared his mouth, not daring to kiss him on the lips in front of so many people. Instead, he pressed a chaste kiss right onto the curve of Junmyeon’s right cheek.

Junmyeon’s worst fear came to life when he heard a second voice pipe up from behind him, timbre and angry. “What the hell are you doing to him?”

Kris straightened himself up then, blinking in puzzlement as he gazed past Junmyeon to see who was approaching the two of them. Junmyeon, already knowing who it was, braced himself as he turned on his heel. And there, right behind him, was Yifan, his facial features contorted in pure white-hot fury as his hands remained balled into tight fists at his sides.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but keep your mouth off of him,” Yifan then strained out from between gritted teeth. He was visibly sizing himself up, navy blue suit jacket tightening up over his coiled muscles and clashing against his styled silver hair.

Kris merely blinked for a second, before he frowned, dark eyebrows furrowing in frustration of his own. “Who are you to come over here and tell me what to do? Mind your own business.”

“It is my business, considering Junmyeon is here to see me, not you,” Yifan snapped, “and definitely isn’t here to get kissed by anyone but me.”

“What is that supposed to mean? I can kiss Junmyeon as much as I want,” Kris growled out lowly, his typically optimistic expression erased entirely, and instead replaced by a look of slowing growing anger of his own. “Who do you think you are?”

Kris and Yifan both snapped their heads downward to give Junmyeon a dark look, speaking simultaneously. “You know this guy?”

Junmyeon at that moment very small, and he gulped thickly, realizing right then and there he was living his worst nightmare. He nodded, slowly, watching Kris’ and Yifan’s eyes darken immediately at that response.

“Um… Kris, this is Yifan,” Junmyeon at last squeaked out, his knees practically knocking together. “Yifan, this is Kris.”

The two basketball players were glaring at one another then, eyes furious and faces warped in anger. Junmyeon wondered just how bad the impeding explosion was going to be as he spoke up once more.

“Do you guys, um,” Junmyeon mumbled, “want to talk?”

When Kris and Yifan refused to break eye contact, instead both nodding stiffly, Junmyeon gulped, unsure as to what was about to unfold.

“I can’t even believe this,” Yifan spat, arms folded tightly across his chest. He, Kris, and Junmyeon were presently standing in the men’s bathroom, shielded away from the remaining journalists and basketball players. It was a shabby attempt of privacy, but it was better than nothing. It definitely beat standing there in the middle of the venue in a crowd of people arguing over their love life. “You seriously went out on a date with this guy?”

“I could be saying the same about you,” Kris snapped, not giving Junmyeon a chance to speak. “At least my intentions were clear from the beginning that I was just trying to be nice. I didn’t lure him onto some date only to drop a bombshell on him at the last second that I had a crush on him.”

Junmyeon was caught in the crossfire then, standing there helplessly and watching the two men argue.

Yifan’s upper lip curled into a sneer. “It wouldn’t have mattered regardless. Even if you had told him you had a crush on him, what difference would it have made? You don’t stand a chance against someone like me. You’re just a kid.”

“I’m not a child,” Kris hissed, his shoulders shoving backwards in anger.

“Of course you are. You’re just some brat who thinks he has a shot,” Yifan continued, before his voice changed into one of mocking, putting on his worst attempt of a Canadian accent. “I’m Kris Wu and I’m a kid and from Vancouver.”

“Yeah? Well,” Kris argued, doing his best to impersonate Yifan’s voice in return, “I’m Wu Yifan and I’m from Guangzhou.”

Yifan let out a dry snort. “Typical brat, the first to throw out an insult and to mock someone.”

“You mocked me first, you jackass!” Kris hollered, clearly losing his temper at this point. “Wipe that stupid smirk off your face and get over yourself! Obviously Junmyeon is just as interested in me as he with you, considering he let me kiss him!”

“Oh, did he know?” Yifan asked, that same sneer plastered across his face as he leaned forward and far too close into Kris’ face. “Did he let you sleep with him too, like he did with me?”

Kris’ face faltered at that lewd comment, and Junmyeon felt the final thread inside of him snap.

“That is enough!” he roared, coming to stand between the two men, shoving a hand into each of their sternums to force them apart. “You two stop it this instant! You both are like a couple of immature brats and it needs to stop!”

Yifan glared down at him. “I have every right to be pissed off! I’m not sharing you with some stupid kid—“

“What the hell do you mean ‘sharing me’? News flash, but I don’t belong to anyone, especially not you,” Junmyeon interrupted coldly. “Last time I checked, no one has asked me to be their boyfriend and to make things official. I’m not in a relationship with either one of you, and I can do whatever I want. If you don’t like it, I’m not making you stay, but next time you want to talk trash, make sure you actually ask me to be with you officially beforehand.”

Yifan opened his mouth to argue, before he simply closed it again, realizing that Junmyeon was right. Kris, too, was silent in response to that. The air in the restroom was thick and heavy. Junmyeon’s chest was heaving and his eyes were glazed over with a film of frustrated tears.

“I really like the both of you,” Junmyeon then said, biting down on his lower lip for a second to gather his thoughts. “And I didn’t tell either one of you about the other party because I was scared of losing either one of you in the process. I don’t know what I want, but I definitely don’t want to lose anyone over something like this. But if neither of you can handle it, maybe we should just call it quits before we even officially get started.”

Kris and Yifan remained silent in response to that, and Junmyeon turned away to head for the door.

“Both of you, just leave me alone for tonight,” Junmyeon muttered in defeat. “I have a lot of thinking to do.”

The bathroom door clicked loudly as it slammed shut behind Junmyeon’s retreating form.

The text messages were endless that night after the dinner. Junmyeon’s phone was vibrating constantly with incoming texts from both Yifan and Kris, asking what they could do to fix things, that they were sorry, that they didn’t want him to leave.

Junmyeon, from the comfort of his bed, created a group chat for the three of them for the very first time. He typed up one single text message then, sending it off without a second thought.

All three of us need to talk before you two leave town for your next game, Junmyeon typed. I want to see you both tomorrow so we can talk.

Junmyeon switched off his phone, laid it on the nightstand, and rolled over to go to sleep.

“I understand that this is a lot for both of you to take in, and I also realize that my reaction yesterday may not have been the most appropriate one either,” Junmyeon announced the following day. He, Kris, and Yifan were all nestled into the corner of a coffee shop that morning. A plate of unfinished bread sat between them and cups of coffee had long grown cold. Junmyeon stared down into his as if it held all the answers to his problems. “I want to apologize for the way I acted, and the way I chose to run away from the both of you, when I should have tried to harder to provide a better explanation. You were both upset and had a reason to be, and I’m sorry.”

The silence between them was thick and awkward at first, before Kris spoke up softly.

“You couldn’t just… Well, ya know,” he murmured, sounding uncertain, “pick one of us?”

Junmyeon swallowed, cheeks pink with shame. “It’s like I said yesterday. Neither of you had asked me to be in a relationship. I had only been out on one date with each of you up until last night. Things were far from going steady, and because of that, I was open to more than one path. But there’s no way I could just compare the two of you like that and make a decision about who is ‘better’. You’re both so very different but so likeable in your own way.”

Yifan didn’t seem convinced, stubbornly folding his arms over his chest as he spoke up next. “How so?”

“You both look so similar but you act nothing alike. Yifan, you’re loaded with confidence. You never smile. But you can flirt, you can make my knees go weak without hardly even trying, and despite how stoic of a person you can be, you do care deep down, and I know it,” Junmyeon replied immediately. “And Kris is the complete opposite. He’s clumsy and talks a lot and never stops smiling. He’s cute, and Yifan, your aura is more along the lines of sexy than anything else. I can’t compare the two of you to make a decision and to try to throw the other one away. It doesn’t work that way.”

Yifan pursed his lips, deciding to get straight to the point. “What is it that you want from us, Junmyeon?”

“I just want you guys to give me a chance,” Junmyeon whispered, unable to look either one of them in the eye. “I don’t want to lose either one of you over something like this. I know we haven’t been through a whole lot together and still don’t know each other very well yet, but I really do like each of you so much and in such different ways. I’m not asking the two of you to fall in love with each other. I just—I just hope you can at least tolerate each other for now.”

Yifan’s expression did not budge. “I don’t like to share, Junmyeon, and especially when they’re not someone as cute as you.”

“And I’m not asking you to stay. Yifan, I know this is a lot to take in and I know it’s not fair to expect for you to be okay with this. If you don’t like it, we don’t have to do it. You don’t have to stay with me and I don’t expect for you to if you’re unhappy,” Junmyeon murmured. “But for me, this—It’s just something I want and need to do. I really like you both, and I want to see that grow. I don’t want to kill it by dumping one of you in favor of the other. It isn’t fair and it isn’t right and I don’t want to do that, nor lose either one of you, because I do really like you both, so much.”

Kris licked his lips, gears clicking around in his brain as he spoke softly. “I’ve never done anything like this before, Junmyeon. It sounds—It sounds scary. And tough.”

“It is tough. It’s a lot of work, making something like this carry on with minimal bumps. But we can start slow. We aren’t even official, for crying out loud. We can pick at this piece by piece, we can build a relationship, if that is what you two want to try,” Junmyeon said. “And I do mean try. If you don’t like it, then we’ll end it. Done. I’m not forcing either one of you to stay, but I want to give you both a chance, especially when I do like you both. But something here that I need to mention, is that simply trying is dangerous waters for all three of us. One slip and closing the gates to one of the people involved in this, and it will change the dynamics forever. It’ll be putting both of your hearts on the line as well, and… I’m honestly scared of really screwing that up. The thought of hurting either of you scares me, badly. But… Yifan, the way you make me feel, and Kris, the way you make me feel, it’s two completely different things, and I love the way each of those feel. That’s one reason I don’t want to let you guys go. It’s selfish, and I know it, and I’m sorry, but…”

He trailed off. Junmyeon knew he was rambling but he just couldn’t stop. He didn’t know how else to explain what he was feeling anymore, but he had tried to get the point across the best he could. He doubted that he had been successful in the slightest.

“You know what,” Yifan began slowly, letting out a hefty sigh, “I’ll admit it. I’m a greedy bastard. I was so angry at you yesterday when I found out about this whole ‘I’m seeing two guys’ thing, but I thought long and hard about it, and you know something: you’re right. I didn’t ask you to be my boyfriend. I tried hogging you anyway, though, and I shouldn’t have. And you know something? I really like you. I’m not sure how I feel about this, I’ve never thought about something like this, but if experimenting and seeing if you can juggle the two of us at once would make you happy…then I guess I can at least give it a shot.”

Kris, abnormally soft-spoken, piped up from beside him. “I can try. Does it scare me? Yes, a lot, but… Like Yifan said, if that would make you happy, I guess I can at least try it. It’ll take a lot of getting used to, I think, trying to share you with someone else…”

“That’s why compromise exists,” Junmyeon said softly, trying to fight off the wave of hope that was washing up and into his heart. “So long as you two are willing to give it a try, then so am I. This isn’t all about me. Whatever it takes to make each of you feel happy and satisfied, I’ll do it.”

The two basketball players nodded in reply. The air around them felt thick, uncomfortable even, because none of them knew where to go from here.

As if to break the awkward silence, Yifan turned his head to glance at Kris, a smirk already forming on his lips. “I’ll get him to say ‘I love you’ first.”

Kris bristled almost immediately. “No, you won’t. I will.”

“Guys,” Junmyeon quickly interrupted, “this is the beginning of a relationship, not a competition.”

But the two didn’t hear him, already going back to bickering with one another. Junmyeon sighed and took a sip of his cold coffee, listening to them argue. This was definitely going be tougher than he had thought.

The games resumed. With the three of them constantly on the move, it was extremely hard for them to have regular dates like other couples. They continued to text, sending each other messages daily to their group chat. Very little had changed over the next two weeks. Junmyeon continued to sit in on the upcoming basketball games to churn out further reports as the end of the season drew nearer and nearer. The chats also continued, and while Junmyeon had initially hoped for Yifan and Kris to start getting along a little more, he noticed the two men were still bickering like children every chance they received, even if it was via text.

Junmyeon knew he definitely had his work cut out for him.

On the night of the semifinals, both Yifan’s team and Kris’ team emerged victorious. Both of them were now secured in the final bracket to battle it out for the title of champion for the season. That was currently the buzz of their group chat, and the two men were arguing now more than ever, practically ripping each other’s throats out over basketball and who the better team was and who was going to earn that championship title.

The final match was a week after the semifinals. It was a home game for Yifan, and for once, a rare occurrence happened, where all three of them once more ended up in the same city. Junmyeon and Kris both flew into town a few days in advance. For Junmyeon, it was for business. For Kris, it was to be with his team and become accustomed to the time zone and squeeze in more practice before the final match.

For all three of them, it was a rare opportunity for them to hang out as a group and try to solidify their currently rocky but slowly budding relationship.

Three days in a row, they all hung out together, through Junmyeon’s encouragement. They started out with a simple dinner on night one, before heading out to do something more laidback, and sat around to watch a movie with Junmyeon wedged in the middle, not bothering to tell Yifan and Kris to stop being so competitive for once as they both wrangled a possessive arm around his small frame.

On night two, as it was a Friday, the three of them headed downtown to attend the ongoing street fair. Yifan, a local of the area, was able to easily find the way. Junmyeon didn’t mind the way that Yifan and Kris practically fought for his hand before they each claimed one for themselves, interlocking their fingers through Junmyeon’s own. Junmyeon hadn’t laughed as much as he did that night in a long time, feeling abnormally happy as the three of them selected various food choices from one of the food stalls and shared them. Junmyeon didn’t want to go home, not after a fun night like that.

Night three, however, was when the world around him fell apart.

It was pouring rain. The three of them reluctantly decided to stay home, cramming themselves into Yifan’s apartment and squeezing together on the couch. Yifan and Kris were too big for their own good, legs too long and thighs too thick and Junmyeon felt horribly crushed within the small confines of the couch. It didn’t help that Yifan and Kris were being extremely touchy with him, the both of them eager to paw a hand or a full arm around him in an attempt of tugging him closer.

“This movie is lame,” Kris whined halfway through the film, hogging the popcorn bowl and letting it sit in his lap. He crunched on one of the kernels. “Can we do something else? Or at least watch something else?”

Junmyeon furrowed his brow. “It’s nine PM on a Saturday night and thunder storming outside. What on earth else is there for us to do?”

“We could make out,” Yifan commented nonchalantly, holding the remote in one hand as thumbing through the channels to find something else for them to watch.

“Don’t say things like that,” Junmyeon whined softly, reaching over to steal a handful of popcorn from Kris.

“Right. Don’t say things like that,” Kris added. Junmyeon wasn’t prepared for what came next. “If you make out with him then that means that I also get to make out with him.”

Yifan actually laughed, a deep and booming sound that matched the thunder that rumbled outside of his apartment building. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m a way better kisser than you are.”

“Oh yeah? Says who?” Kris challenged, and Junmyeon, caught in the middle, let out a loud squeak as Kris suddenly grabbed him by the chin and twisted his head around. “Watch this.”

Junmyeon’s eyes widened in pure shock as Kris suddenly crashed his lips clumsily against his own, kissing him like there was no tomorrow. Despite knowing that Yifan was sitting beside him, watching the event unfold, he couldn’t help but fall into the attention, eyes fluttering shut.

That was, until a hand firmly grasped him by the back of his neck, and pulled him back.

“You call that a kiss?” Yifan challenged, a sneer on his face as he sat up. “Watch and learn, kid.”

Junmyeon didn’t even have time to regain his lost breath before Yifan suddenly crashed against him in a rough, bruising kiss. Junmyeon’s eyes widened for a split second before slipping closed all over again, letting the attention happen. He felt warm right then, drowning in affection—

But it was slowly becoming too much. Kris and Yifan, as usual, were beginning to argue. Forgetting that the forming bond between them was a relationship, and not competition, they were both out on a mission to impress Junmyeon at that moment, and see who could treat him to a better kiss. It wasn’t long before Junmyeon was dissolving into pure goo on Yifan’s couch, forgetting how to breathe, let alone talk, as Yifan and Kris took turns kissing the air right out of him.

His body was unaccustomed to so much attention, and it wasn’t long before he couldn’t contain himself anymore, moaning weakly into Yifan’s mouth as the older male was currently licking his way behind his teeth and tasting every inch of him he could reach.

“No more,” Junmyeon whimpered weakly against the slick skin of Yifan’s mouth. He was panting, sweating, shaking, his mind spinning in never-ending circles. “Stop fighting, stop—“

However, before he could even finish, Kris interrupted him with a shaky gasp. “Is that—?”

At his words, both Junmyeon and Kris glanced over at him, trying to understand where his line of thought was. Junmyeon’s lips were swollen and slick with a mixture of saliva, both his and Yifan’s and Kris’ and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, he followed Kris’ gaze, and so did Yifan. The two of them glanced down, and paused, finally realizing what Kris was referring to.

Junmyeon was absolutely straining inside of his denim shorts.

“Oh,” Yifan then said, smug as ever. “It looks like someone enjoyed that a little too much.”

“I didn’t,” Junmyeon lied, his heart hammering away in his chest. The combined gazes of Kris and Yifan made him feel bare down to his very bones, and he could feel his shorts tightening, secretly wishing he could have more. He had never been kissed so much or so passionately in his life and his body was aching for a continuation.

“What a little liar,” Yifan rumbled, deep in his chest. He leaned forward to press a chaste kiss on Junmyeon’s shiny swollen lips. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you.”

Right then, Junmyeon felt like a helpless rabbit, about to be eaten alive by the big bad wolf, and he knew there was no turning back form this.

Junmyeon’s skin was discolored. Hickeys of various sizes marred his flesh, both from Kris’ mouth and Yifan’s. His flesh was sweaty and flushed, pink nipples hardened and when Kris tugged at the waistband of his boxers to see what was hiding within, his cock was already stiff and swollen.

The foreplay was limited and rushed, and Junmyeon’s skin felt as if it was on fire as he fingered himself open, somehow feeling even more aroused as Yifan and Kris watched him do it. He put on a show for them unintentionally, moaning brokenly as he stretched himself and when the tips of his fingers grazed at the bundle of nerves deep within him.

This was potentially a major mistake waiting to happen, but Junmyeon was trying not to stress.

Don’t force your relationships into a predefined shape, he reminded himself, moaning loud and brokenly as one of his wet fingers slipped over the surface of his entrance, teasing himself. Let them be what they are.

Every relationship was different, and although theirs was still rocky and filled with far too many arguments, perhaps life in the bedroom would be the first place they would be able to find peace.

A whimper caught within his throat as he leaned back, his back molding against the solid, firm muscles of Yifan’s bare chest. His flesh was warm, ribcage rising and falling sharply against his body. Yifan’s thighs were tensed underneath him, a full warning of what was about to happen, his cock eagerly twitching inside of Junmyeon’s body, so ready to move. Yifan’s hands were curled around his hipbones, dangerous and possessive. Yifan began to help him ease off of his dick, huffing lowly into Junmyeon’s ear at the wet sound, before unceremoniously tightening his grip and yanking Junmyeon back down.

Junmyeon instinctively arched his back, groaning lowly and eyes struggling to roll back in his skull. His cock already felt so heavy, jerking against his upper thigh. He could have sworn he took Yifan even deeper like this, and the thought made his toes curl as he adjusted his weight. Hands clasped on either side of Yifan’s thighs, his arms coiled, putting all the force he could into his arms and calves as he at last found the energy to move, bouncing up and down. Yifan, realizing Junmyeon had found the pattern on his own, loosened his grip from Junmyeon’s hips, but his break didn’t last long. Junmyeon’s moan was startled and embarrassedly high-pitched then, caught by surprise as he heaved himself up, only to have Yifan slap him hard across the ass.

“I know you can do better than that,” Yifan said lowly from behind him, and Junmyeon arched again, clenching himself around Yifan on pure instinct as the man nipped the side of his neck. He could feel Yifan’s palm on his ass, squeezing, holding as much of one cheek in his hand as he could before letting go and hitting him, harder this time, with an audible slap. “C’mon, I know you can take me, that pretty hole has taken me plenty well before.”

Junmyeon swallowed, mouth agape as he forced himself to move faster. He could feel Yifan laying kisses against the sensitive skin of his neck, biting down and sucking until the skin bloomed purple. Quicker, harder, and Junmyeon was panting and moaning as he felt Yifan’s cock nearly slipping back out every time he heaved himself up before slamming back into him. Yifan’s hands were anything but still, one hand still resting on Junmyeon’s ass as the other reached around to idly fondle the tip of Junmyeon’s dick.

“How am I supposed to do anything when you keep playing with him?”

Junmyeon froze for a second, eyes snapping open wide as he looked across the bed. He had gotten so into the moment that he had forgotten Kris was even there. He was literally pouting, lips pushed together and right hand loosely holding onto his dick, occasionally giving it a few strokes to keep himself stiff.

Yifan breathed a soft laugh into Junmyeon’s ear then. “How about you put that big mouth of yours to use for once?”

Kris was quiet for a moment. Junmyeon, still bouncing on Yifan’s lap, his hole stuffed and wet, stared at him. Their eyes locked, and Junmyeon knew he must have looked obscene, nipples pink and hard, skin covered in sweat, dick bobbing as he moved. And as Kris merely stared back at him, his eyes gradually lowering until they were staring at Junmyeon’s cock. Junmyeon immediately knew the other was up to no good as his eyes lit up in realization, and before he could even speak, Kris was suddenly crawling across the bed, carefully maneuvering between Yifan’s extended legs so that he could park himself right in front of Junmyeon.

“It’s so red and swollen,” Kris commented then, face far too close to Junmyeon’s. A high-pitched noise left Junmyeon’s lips then as Kris reached out to casually swirl his thumb over the head, precum staining his fingers immediately after. “And so wet.”

“Of course he is. Never seen someone love getting fucked this much,” Yifan rumbled, his voice right in Junmyeon’s ear. Junmyeon whimpered as he felt Yifan buck his hips roughly underneath him, forcing himself in even deeper. His lips were resting on the bruised skin of Junmyeon’s neck, and his hand, once again, slapped Junmyeon across the ass. “Like my cock that much? Or do you get off on having your ass played with?”

“Well, either way,” Kris said coolly, licking his lips, “at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter as long as you take care of the problem.”

It was too much at once, feeling Yifan thrust into him as Kris swallowed him whole. Junmyeon’s mouth hung open in a scream of overwhelmed pleasure, hips jerking pathetically back and forth because he could not figure out what to focus on anymore.

He couldn’t win. He was struggling to remember to keep moving, and Yifan helped remind him, grabbing him by the hips yet again before forcefully tugging him on and off of his cock. But he was trapped, being assaulted by pleasure on both ends of the spectrum. There was Yifan, still fucking him like there was no tomorrow. That on its own was enough. But now there was Kris, who had his hands digging into the tops of Junmyeon’s thighs, mouth stuffed full of Junmyeon’s cock. Each bounce on Yifan’s lap effected how he moved with Kris, each pull down onto Yifan’s dick making him slip out of Kris’ mouth and each heave up shoving him back in. Junmyeon was a mess at this point, moaning, shaking, sobbing, unsure of what to do with his hands as he resorted to burying his fingernails into the supple skin of Yifan’s thighs.

The sensation was already enough to handle but seeing Kris like this did not help matters at all, watching him open his mouth nice and wide to suck Junmyeon off. He had his eyes closed, one hand having moved to loosely grasp the base of Junmyeon’s dick to give himself a little more control in the already frantic rhythm. There was saliva running down his chin, his plump lips shiny with precum. He was moaning around Junmyeon’s cock, and the remaining hand that had been resting on Junmyeon’s thigh instead blindly reached south to fist around his own dick, stroking himself rapidly as he sucked, hollowing his cheeks and flattening his tongue against the vein. Junmyeon could feel the tip of his cock practically slamming into the back of Kris’ throat as he continued to rock on Yifan’s lap, and yet Kris was hardly even gagging, instead seeming to find it as some warped form of encouragement as he shoved his face down even further with a wet slurp. Junmyeon took the bait then, giving Yifan’s thighs mercy at last – although he had already drawn a bit of blood – and instead twisted his fingers into Kris’ hair. Still bawling amidst his moans and desperate whimpers, Junmyeon instinctively shoved Kris’ head down, choking on a sob as he felt Kris’ nose press flush against the skin of his groin.

It was too much. The wet, tight heat of Kris’ mouth, the curl of his tongue, the curve of his lips. The thickness of Yifan’s cock, the way it still pounded up and into him, destroying him physically and mentally one piece at a time until there was nothing left.

He burst, and Junmyeon was screaming as orgasm struck him with no mercy. Kris’ cheeks pulled inward, a low groan echoing in the back of his throat as he kept Junmyeon inside his mouth as much as he could, fingers pumping the base of Junmyeon’s cock to make him cum for all he was worth. Yifan was still slapping away beneath him, with no sign of slowing down, and it only made Junmyeon cum harder, muscles tightening and toes curling, a crescendo of sobs and groans escaping his mouth as he tossed his head back and against Yifan’s shoulder. At last, there was nothing left, one final squirt of his release escaping from him before he released a fucked-out moan, boneless and exhausted.

From around his slowly softening length, Kris grunted low in his throat, swallowing everything at once. His free hand was moving wildly as he did so, jerking himself off, and as he at last pulled back and away, a few drops of cum being licked off of his trembling lips, Junmyeon watched his eyes roll back in his head as he lost himself. Kris was always messy when he came and he was then too, stroking himself weakly as globs of white dribbled over his fingertips and dripped onto the bedding.

There was only one person left, and that was Yifan, who seemed to finally be approaching his end. His thrusts were slowing, getting lazier, grinding himself in almost teasingly and basking in the pleasure of feeling the head of his cock rubbing against Junmyeon’s slickened insides. And after a few more minutes, Yifan came, attempting to silence his groan by planting his lips firmly against the side of Junmyeon’s neck in a pathetic kiss.

And then there was stillness as the three of them attempted to come back down from orgasm.

“I still don’t think it’s fair that you got to fuck him,” Kris then announced, a pout on his lips as he wiped his hand off on the bedding.

Yifan breathed a soft laugh against the skin of Junmyeon’s neck. “I’m the oldest. I have seniority.”

“Seniority? You are a senior, you old fart,” Kris argued, still sulking as he reached out with one foot to give Yifan’s thigh a gentle kick.

“You two knock it off,” Junmyeon then complained, his voice crackling and so wonderfully fucked-out. He heaved himself up then, letting Yifan’s softening cock slowly slip out of him until it fell out entirely. “You’re ruining the moment.”

“He started it,” Kris muttered under his breath.

“Stop being a brat,” Yifan immediately argued, and Junmyeon huffed.

“I mean it, you two stop,” Junmyeon repeated, irritation tainting his voice now. “You both fight like a couple of kids. Am I ever going to see the day where you two can get along without getting jealous of each other?”

Kris and Yifan were silent for a long moment before simultaneously glancing down at Junmyeon, who was flopped down on the bed, spread-eagled, and trying to avoid the mess of sweat and cum that stained the bedsheets.

“Would that make you happier?” Kris then asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Junmyeon instantly said, eyes closing with exhaustion. That was one of the most powerful orgasms he had ever had and he couldn’t take the tiredness, not right now. “I like you both a lot. You know that. I just wish you two could get along for once. Now stop. We have a long day tomorrow.”

Eyes fluttering shut, Junmyeon missed the glance that was exchanged between Kris and Yifan, the two of them both scowling in puzzlement.

Junmyeon had never felt so disappointed. He had hoped, more than anything else in the world, that he would be able to be the one to cover the final game. Unfortunately, he didn’t get his wish, and it was instead Jongdae who was covering the match. Junmyeon was stuck in his room and huddled in front of the TV to watch the match, wishing so badly he could be there to support the two men he had come to like so much over the past couple of weeks.

But unfortunately, he didn’t always get what he wanted. Now was one of those times and as much as the disappointment hurt, Junmyeon couldn’t do anything to fix it. All he could do was sit there and watch the final game unfold before him on the TV screen and hope for the best.

At the end of the day, he wished both teams could win, but that was also impossible to accomplish.

It was definitely a nail-biting game though. First quarter had been neck and neck. As Yifan and Kris were both forwards, the two had quite a bit of interaction on the court, trying to steal the ball away from one another in favor of their own team. Despite being so different in terms of personality, there was one thing those two had in common, and Junmyeon knew it: competitiveness. Yifan and Kris both loved to win and hated to lose, and at a time like this, with the title of champion dangling between them, they were both going to fight tooth and nail for it.

First and second quarter trickled away and Junmyeon was sitting on the edge of his seat at that moment, chewing on the end of his thumb in nerves. Kris’ team was actually in the lead by three points. Yifan, as always, was trying to keep calm, that same stoic expression on his face as he continued to play. Even Kris seemed in the zone, his mouth momentarily hanging open in heavy pants as he swept his sweat-soaked hair out of his face. In the distance of the press box, Junmyeon could just barely make out the shape of Jongdae, huddled near the center with his neon green laptop.

No matter who won, Junmyeon knew this was going to be a game talked about for ages.

Third quarter was underway. Junmyeon watched the sea of red and blue jerseys bob up and down the length of the court, chasing after the ball, trying to keep up.

“Quarter-rim shot, rolls in,” the commentator said, “Wu Yifan—“

That was another thing Junmyeon had noticed about this game. The commentators usually addressed the players by only their surname, but with both Kris and Yifan being a Wu, surnames alone would cause far too much confusion.

The game continued on and they were approaching the end of the third quarter. Kris and one of Yifan’s teammates were fighting for the ball near one of the hoops. It was at times like these that the game went far too fast. Everything was a blur in Junmyeon’s eyes, watching too many pairs of legs move at once, too many arms in the air, too many hands swatting. The man on Yifan’s team had just jumped, launching the ball, and Kris went after it immediately, arms already up to try to grab it.

Something was wrong.

The two men somehow clipped one another and Junmyeon didn’t understand what was going on, watching as Kris rammed into the other male by mistake before gravity took over. The first man landed on his feet, stumbling a little as Kris’ weight bumped into him, and Kris tried to regain his footing as well, but he didn’t make it. He went falling backwards, and instinctively lowered his hands to catch his fall.

The world came to a screeching halt when Kris’ arm buckled beneath him, and he collapsed onto the court, eyes scrunching shut in agony and mouth hanging open in a silent scream as his free hand flew to his elbow to clutch it protectively.

Junmyeon’s heart sank into the soles of his feet.

“Kris Wu is down, looks like he’s holding tightly onto his left elbow,” one of the commentators said, “let’s see a replay. Looks like that encounter for the ball ended up with a pretty nasty fall—“

The replay was on Junmyeon’s screen. Slow, from another angle, and he had to watch all the horror unfold before him a second time. When Kris fell, he had lowered his left arm to try to catch his weight. And with the assistance of the replay, Junmyeon watched in pure terror as Kris hit the floor, his body buckling under the impact, and all of that weight going right into his arm.

Junmyeon was no expert on the human body but he knew that elbows did not bend that way.

“Timeout. Kris Wu fell hard and it looks like it all went into his elbow,” the commentator continued. “He isn’t getting up.”

Junmyeon couldn’t hear the noise of the crowd anymore. All he could hear was the sound of his own pulse racing in his eardrums. There were coaches and other team staff huddled around Kris as he curled into himself on the floor, trying to help to his feet. Kris’ teeth were gritted tightly together in pain as they aided him in standing.

He could see Yifan, frozen, near the opposite end of the court. Everyone seemed to have stopped, the others in blue huddled around Kris and time was standing still. And as Kris was escorted off the court, face contorted with sheer misery, Junmyeon shot up from the couch, snatching up his keys.

Junmyeon had always hated hospitals. The smell of antiseptics was enough to make his stomach lurch. It was a struggle not to focus on the disease that crawled within the four walls of the building. Visiting a doctor always made him somewhat nervous despite his age, and he knew it was a little childish to be scared of something like a member of medical personnel, but he just couldn’t help it.

Still, for this, Junmyeon would force himself to swallow his fear.

It was a confused rush initially. He had a hard time in the beginning figuring out what hospital to even visit, trying to determine where on earth they were taking Kris. By the time he had an answer in the form of text messages, Junmyeon, with trembling fingers, hopped into the backseat of a taxi as fast as he could.

Part of him was glad that Jongdae was covering the final game of the season, and not him. Junmyeon wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle seeing Kris hurt himself like that live and in person, seeing him writhe on the floor in agony with his own two eyes.

When Junmyeon practically burst into the emergency room and located Kris, still in treatment due to just exiting the x-ray area, there was another man in the room with him that Junmyeon didn’t recognize. He didn’t look happy either, furrowing his brow in displeasure as Junmyeon entered through the doorway.

“We aren’t allowing visits from the press nor interviews at this time,” he said instantly, and Junmyeon paused in realization. Oh, it must have been one of Kris’ coaches or managers, and could recognize him from all the time he had been inside the press box.

Kris, on the other hand, currently lying in his cot, perked up. And, despite the obvious pain he was in, he smiled, big and wide. “Junmyeon?”

The strange man beside him in the suit turned to look at him suspiciously. “You know him?”

“Mm, Junmyeon is a really good friend of mine,” Kris answered, nodding. Junmyeon swallowed, struggling not to feel embarrassed about that vague answer. More like boyfriend, and they both knew it. Kris turned his attention onto the man beside him, giving him a hopeful look. “He can stay, right?”

The man looked reluctant but didn’t argue, instead letting out a loud and practically forced sigh through his nose. “Alright. But if he gets in the way, he’s out of here.”

Kris grinned, that same line of gums peeking out from between his lips as he turned back to Junmyeon. Junmyeon walked closer then, biting his lower lip worriedly.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. Kris was still clad in his basketball clothing, baggy blue jersey and shorts clashing against boring white sheets. “I was watching the game, and I saw what happened. You really scared me, and a lot of other people, I’m sure.”

Kris sighed. “I know. I scared myself too. I was worried for a second that I really hurt myself and wouldn’t be able to play anymore. But they just did x-rays and nothing is broken.”

“No fractures?” Junmyeon asked, a little in disbelief, because he had seen the way Kris’ arm had bent and there was no way in hell that was normal.

“No fractures or breaks, but…” Kris licked his lips nervously. “They said it’s dislocated. Which I guess is good, because that’s kinda straightforward and not as severe as a break or tear or anything, and I’ll be able to come back next season and play again, but… Ya know, bad, because I dislocated my elbow.”

Junmyeon’s heart dropped. “What are they going to do now?”

“They have to realign it. The doctor told me to wait a few minutes. She left just before you came,” Kris explained, leaning back into his pillow. “I’m kinda scared, to be honest. You know if you pop your knee out of place they just pop it back in. So, I thought it was gonna be the same for my elbow, but… When I asked the doctor about it, she said they’re gonna have to sedate me because it’s gonna hurt a lot.”

There was a beat of silence as Junmyeon struggled to absorb the information Kris was telling him, and his heart pulsed in pity and worry for the younger male, but before he could speak, Kris beat him to it.

“I’m not good with pain,” he admitted quietly, trying to joke around as usual to lighten the mood. Typical Kris, and despite his worries, Junmyeon’s heart swelled with love. Even when he was in the hospital, he was still the same cute kid Junmyeon had come to know. “But, well, since I’m not gonna be returning to the game tonight, it’s safe to give me narcotics, so that’s a plus I guess?”

Before he could stop himself, Junmyeon reached out to thread his fingers through Kris’ mess of black hair, like he always did when the two of them were stressed out. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll only hurt for a minute and then you’ll be back to normal in no time.”

Kris sighed as he twisted the sheets around in his unaffected hand. “I sure hope so.”

Team doctors typically tended to the players. Junmyeon knew that. Kris was an uncommon case, where they feared the worst, instead trading him off to a hospital in fear that he had actually broken a bone. Even though Kris hadn’t broken anything, it didn’t make Junmyeon any less worried. True to Kris’ word, they sedated him, shooing both Junmyeon and the other mysterious man out of the way of the bed so that the team could work. It took two people to work on the realignment, or, well, if he was going with what the medical personnel were saying, it was more of a reduction maneuver. Junmyeon didn’t really know what that meant, nor did he quite understand all the other terminology they were using. He had never been that talented in the field of science and it showed right then and there, but that wasn’t his primary focus at the moment anyway. Kris was.

It was a slow process. Slow and gentle, working on popping everything back into place. It, by itself, looked painful and Junmyeon was thankful that Kris was currently pumped full of medications so he wouldn’t have to suffer through it.

Kris was to keep the elbow immobile for two to three weeks, fitted into a splint to reduce his movement as much as possible. He would start working on early motion exercises and physical therapy would more than likely also be a requirement. Sometimes, full range of motion never returned to the elbow after such an injury, but Junmyeon had high hopes that Kris would be just fine. Basketball was his life, and he knew Kris wouldn’t let anything stop him from achieving his dreams.

The hardest part was over. They were going to keep Kris for a while longer. He was still dazed from his medications as he sat in the recovery area. Junmyeon sat next to him the entire time, thankful that things had not been nearly as bad as he initially feared. He had just enough of a signal on his phone to receive an incoming text from Yifan later into the evening, showing the game and interviews were finally finished. Junmyeon texted him back, answering Yifan’s inquiries about if he had seen what happened, and Junmyeon told him yes, he had, that he was in the hospital now with Kris in the recovery area.

I’ll be there in ten, Yifan’s text had said.

And he was, entering the recovery area with his silver hair strewn every which way and his red uniform abandoned in favor of his all-black ensemble of compression shorts and long-sleeved shirt. The manager was reluctant to let Yifan join them, already uneasy with Junmyeon sitting there with the two of them, and having a player from the opposite team was not something he favored, but he couldn’t seem to say no to Kris.

After all, the moment Kris laid eyes on Yifan, a big dopey grin crossed his lips. “Yifan?”

“Hey. How are you feeling?” Yifan asked him, not bothering to ask if he could sit down and instead claiming a chair for himself, plopping down in it. “I got here as soon as I could.”

“Still feel weird,” Kris admitted, “but they fixed my arm.”

“A bad dislocation,” Junmyeon filled in, knowing Kris wasn’t making total sense. Yifan was quiet beside him, soaking that information in piece by piece. “They sedated him for the treatment. He has to keep his splint on for a couple weeks then it’s on to physical therapy.”

Yifan pursed his lips unhappily as he stared at Kris from beneath furrowed brows. “You’re lucky you only had a dislocation. You know that, right?”

“I know. ‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to worry anybody,” Kris mumbled, lower lip poking out a little in an unhappy pout. “Is the game over?”

“Yeah. Game is over,” Yifan answered, nodding once. “We won.”

Kris was quiet for a long moment, drugged-up and trying to understand what that meant. He seemed excited for a split second before he understood that we meant Yifan’s team, not his. He visibly deflated then, shoulders slumping in disappointment.

“Hey. Don’t look so down,” Yifan commented then, reaching out with one large hand and patting it over the curve of Kris’ knee. “Look. I’ve been playing in the league a lot longer than you have, and when I say you did well, I mean that. Kris, it’s been a hard season for you guys. You’re still rookies, and you guys managed to make it to the finals. Do you know how incredible that is? And you helped your team get to that point. You’re their forward, their team captain. You’re their glue that keeps them together and you’re one of the primary reasons your team made it that far.”

Yifan was not typically one to compliment. He was a quiet man who did not feed others constant praise. Not only that, but he was more experienced that Kris was, both in terms of life and in the sport itself. And to hear such approval coming from Yifan, it clearly threw Kris for a loop, making his cheeks turn the slightest bit pink.

“Do you really mean that?” Kris asked then, softly and in disbelief.

“I do. You and your team have worked incredibly hard, and like I said, the fact you are still considered a new team and still managed to make it to the final round in incredible. You guys are going to be huge someday. You know that, don’t you?” Yifan asked rhetorically, one corner of his mouth curling up in amusement as he patted Kris’ knee. “I’m really proud of you, Kris.”

Kris’ chest visibly swelled with pride, his cheeks dusted pink. He bit his lip as if to hold something back but couldn’t contain it, and instead, his lips spread then, pulling into a wide and happy smile. Kris didn’t say it, but right then and there, Junmyeon knew that those words meant the world to him.

Kris’ teammates came to visit him prior to his release. The recovery room grew quite full at some point, and it made Junmyeon feel borderline claustrophobic. He was thankful when Kris finally was released and he understood just how lucky they were to have avoided media attention regarding this entire escapade. The finals had ended and the constant go go go of trying to make it to games, to practice, to interviews, was finally over for a little while, allowing everyone a breath of fresh air.

Kris and his team were playing away for the finals and therefore they were staying in a hotel. But since it was considered a home game for Yifan, they were still within his city, and within reach of his apartment. The three of them stuck together that night, refusing to leave one another as they all piled into the elevator of Yifan’s apartment building, slowly ascending to his floor.

It was a different pace from how their lives had been lately. They took it slow, the three of them wandering into Yifan’s apartment, not rushing in the slightest. It was getting late by this point but they were wide awake and famished. No one wanted to cook and they ordered pizza instead, squeezing together on Yifan’s couch to huddle around the TV and watch a movie together.

Kris, awkwardly wrangling up a slice of pizza with one hand, spoke up. “I hope the guys aren’t mad at me for not hanging out with them…”

“I doubt they care. You told them where you were going and you guys are stuck together all the time anyway. You may be a team but sometimes we all need a break,” Yifan said casually, legs outstretched. “Besides, it’s not like we get to do this sort of thing every day.”

Kris and Junmyeon murmured in agreement. The movie was nothing more than muffled white noise as they talked softly amongst themselves, eating slowly as the wild events of the day slowly caught up to them.

“Why aren’t you out with your team though?” Junmyeon asked then, watching Yifan perk up a bit at that question. “I mean, Kris got hurt, so that’s that, but your team won the finals. Shouldn’t you be out celebrating?”

“They probably are celebrating right now, and knowing my teammates, getting wasted,” Yifan joked, chuckling softly. “But I told them before I left that I had somewhere else to be. They understood. I haven’t exactly kept it a secret from them that I’m not single anymore.”

“Oh,” Junmyeon deadpanned, swallowing. “Do they—Do they know who you’re dating?”

“Of course. But they don’t know your name,” Yifan continued. “They just know you as the cute guy with the gold-colored laptop in the press box.”

“My teammates know your name is Junmyeon but I haven’t told them what you do for a living or how we met or anything yet,” Kris then chimed in, a content look on his face as he took a bite of his pizza.

Junmyeon’s cheeks reddened. “So you both have said you’re dating me but I haven’t told anyone about you guys?”

“It’s harder for you,” Yifan said coolly, “I mean, you’re gonna have to explain you’re dating two famous basketball players. That might be tough, and I’m sure you know some people aren’t gonna get it.”

“Yeah, I know. They’re probably going to find it weird that I’m with two people at the same time. Not exactly common,” Junmyeon agreed quietly, “and it’s tough because people get jealous, like you two do all the time.”

There was a brief moment of silence before Junmyeon suddenly perked up, glancing at the two men that sat on either side of him.

“You guys aren’t fighting,” Junmyeon then announced, watching Kris and Yifan blink at him in surprise. “You haven’t fought all evening.”

“Well…” Kris started up quietly, chewing thoughtfully on his pizza, “you did say us not fighting would make you happier, right? I’d much rather have you be happy than us fight all the time.”

“I can be nicer,” Yifan added, his voice just as soft as Kris’ own. “I know I pick on Kris a lot and it’s often uncalled for; he’s just fun to tease. But if it makes you unhappy for me to do that, then… I’ll stop.”

Kris huffed from his end of the couch. “You should also stop picking on me because I’m hurt.”

“Oh, right, excuse me. You’re physically hurt as it is so the last thing you need me to do is to hurt your pride as well,” Yifan chuckled out. Kris was sulking right then and Yifan just sighed, reaching one arm out and over Junmyeon to give Kris a gentle shove. “Quit pouting, you big baby. I’m just messing with you. You had me worried sick. The last thing I wanna do right now is make fun of you.”

Kris blinked a couple times, his cheeks round and full of partially chewed pizza. Seeming to get a grip on himself, he blinked once more, raising a hand to talk behind it so the others wouldn’t be able to see the food in his mouth. “You were worried about me?”

“We were both worried about you,” Junmyeon then mentioned with a tired sigh. It had definitely been a long day for all three of them; too much had happened at once and Junmyeon was sure that Kris and Yifan were just as worn out as he was. “Arms don’t bend that way and you couldn’t get up either. I’m just glad you didn’t break something.”

“Well, it hurt, okay?” Kris huffed out stubbornly. He leaned forward to steal a glance at Yifan. “You’d better watch out though. Next season I’m gonna be healed up and we’ll win the finals.”

Yifan let out a soft snort of amusement. “Sure, kid, whatever you say.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” Kris whined, and he looked downright pathetic in Junmyeon’s eyes, pizza sauce lingering in one corner of his mouth, lips pushing together in a pout, left arm still fitted into his splint.

“Alright, alright, I’m just picking,” Yifan drawled. “Now wipe your mouth.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Kris complained, but he obeyed anyway, leaning forward so that he could grab napkin off the coffee table. “I’m grown and can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can,” Yifan repeated, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “Doesn’t mean I can’t nag you anyway.”

Kris only huffed in reply, and Yifan released a soft laugh then under his breath. Junmyeon smiled a little then, tiredly settling down into the couch. He vaguely felt Kris and Yifan shift closer to him, the firmness of Yifan’s chest pressed against his right side and Kris’ arm looping around him from the left. It made him feel warm, and Junmyeon couldn’t help but feel happy, despite all that had happened earlier in the day.

Things weren’t perfect, and the three of them still had a long way to go, but Junmyeon had confidence that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work.

It was going to be the first of many seasons for the three of them, in more ways than one.

perfect together

Prompt #21: Irresistible

Prompt #21: Irresistible

Navigation

Expand Cut Tags

Profile

Most Popular Tags