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dojunie · 11 months

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MESSENGER; HRJ [PT 6: FACE TO FACE]

➥ PART 6 OF MESSENGER; a small smau about a stranger, a whole lot of animal pics, and a relationship you would never have expected to come from texting a random number written on a public bathroom mirror.

➥ WC: 4.4K

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a/n: double update as a gift for taking a month to post this 🤠

current tl: @matchahyuck @theboyz-jacob @hoeshi17 @neoteez01 @hibernatinghamster @luvvsnae @shwizhies @skynightgalaxy @ihrtnyu @kunvibing @liliansun @txpxwxk @is4b3ll3s @rxnexxi @rum-gone-why @she-is-dreaming @chenfleur @haedgaf @twogyuu

“YOU KNOW THE RULES, 22. WHAT WOULD COACH SAY ABOUT THIS?”

Doyeon— your team’s captain, your best friend, and currently the person you were hovering over as she jolted and tried to hide her phone under her jacket sleeve— startled so badly at your booming voice that she almost hit her head on the locker door. Almost. As it stood she narrowly missed cracking her pretty face open on the metal, swinging her sharp gaze around to glare at you instead.

You snooped shamelessly; her phone screen seemed to be lingering on a text message thread.

“You’re terrible,” you chided. “Almost ripped my ear off at practice today when I was on my phone, but look at you. Five minutes before the game and you’re doing this. If I wasn’t so personally hurt I’d surely report you to the NCAA—”

“I dragged you onto the court because you were literally up next in set,” she hissed, “So I don’t want to hear it, brat; and keep your voice down!”

...Hmm. Bingo.

You’d managed to deduce exactly the reaction you were looking for. She only did that wide-eyed small-mouth yelling when she was on the edge— which meant that she was stressed, even if she's been dodging your eyes all afternoon. Instead of replying to her name-calling like you usually would your eyes lowered into a squint, and then drifted to the phone she’d now tossed onto a shelf in her locker.

Your game against the Hanyang Tigers was set to start in a little under five minutes. Coach had gone off to do something last-minute and boring and official, like check the court for proper net height ordinances or something, which left you and the team wandering around the room to finish warming up before she returned and things became serious— but for now, the vibe in the SNU locker room was still pretty light. Light, besides the obvious cloud of agitation floating around your captain.

Doyeon’s shoulders were stiff. Her lips pursed, and her attention clearly elsewhere.

“Did that loser do something dumb again?” you asked. The immediate slump of her shoulders answered your question before her mouth did.

“No,” she lied.

A beat.

“Or… I don’t know yet, should I say,” she added, dejectedly, when your eyes narrowed on her further. “And you know he hates it when you call him that.”

“I’ll say it like I see it,” you replied. “And until he gets his priorities straight, I don’t know about Donghyuck. I only know loser. What’d he do now?”

You didn’t actually dislike Donghyuck. You thought he was pretty funny, truthfully. Nice, clever, if not a little rebellious; the extrovert to reign over all extroverts.

You were the one to introduce him to Doyeon, even— after his incessant inquires about her began to drive you insane during the class you shared last semester, where you’d gotten to know him as your lab partner and then eventual friend (or should you say frenemy, since you both tended to argue more than not). Even though they seemed to be polar opposites on paper, Doyeon and Donghyuck actually ended up hitting it off a few months ago. They’ve officially been together for a few weeks now… but as many new couples eventually find, a spot of turbulence has begun to form in the waters of their relationship. (Namely, the one that was plaguing your best friend right now: his schedule.)

Donghyuck was a popular guy. Not to say that Doyeon wasn’t, the sweetheart and absolute knock-out she is, but Hyuck is in three clubs, a fraternity, and a sport; not to mention his affinity for spending every rare free moment doing something, being somewhere, having fun somehow.

It wasn’t a problem until it was a problem. Donghyuck missed a date he’d planned with Doyeon a few days ago, leaving your poor captain hanging out to dry at an arcade downtown because he’d lost track all eighty billion of the things he does during the week— and it wasn’t the first time he’d accidentally blown her off, either. But this was the worst and most recent of them, and it was obvious that day had stung your best friend pretty badly.

He's been groveling at her feet to make it up to her as of late, a definite step in the right direction, but as the best friend who'd had to hear her hold back tears on the phone afterwards? He was still on thin ice with you.

“I asked him to come to our game a few days ago, but he said he had a Nu Chi thing tonight that he wouldn’t be able to get out of,” Doyeon confided after a moment, eyes cloudy. “But now his location is off, and he’s not responding to my texts.”

"Oh,” you said. “Well. My eyebrows are... raised, but even I can’t crucify him for just that–”

“Me neither,” she cut in. “I wasn’t upset about that.”

“...Then—”

“What I’m upset about, is that Yoojin just texted me and said he was at B-Block dorms like, ten minutes ago, just walking around with one of his friends. Y’know. On the other side of campus, where his frat is not?”

You blinked. Yikes.

“Ah.”

“Right,” Doyeon sighed.

You weren’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that your coach returned then, smacking her clipboard against the bench to gather everyone's attention at the other end of the locker room. In an instant Doyeon’s expression changed, shifting into that of the captain who needed to gather her team and not of a girl who just found out that her boyfriend might be lying about his whereabouts.

You’d better not be doing anything stupid, Donghyuck, you thought unhelpfully, as you gave Doyeon the only thing you could think of— a weak pat on the back. I’ll kick your ass, motherfucker. I’ll make you wish you never met me.

Renjun is going to be completely honest; he had never really intended on actually meeting you.

The idea had surely crossed his mind, more often after that time you’d called him, recent nights going by where he found himself wondering in the lull between your messages if your laugh sounded higher or lower in person, or if you'd smell like the flowers you told him you press sometimes to use in your tea— but Renjun was nothing if not a realist, and knew that neither of you expected this messenger thing to go on for as long as it has.

He wasn't delusional enough to tell himself he didn't care about you, as he knew that whatever he felt in his stomach when your name lit up on his screen was not... normal, but he also knew that in the blink of an eye you could become too busy, or not find him as interesting, or simply find something better to do with your time that text him all day, and the thought of that made him nervous enough that he decided to prepare for the worst instead of hope for the best. Now, whenever you crossed his mind and he realized he was dwelling, wondering what you were doing, when you'd text him, what you might say or do or show him next— he reminded himself that you both were probably never going to meet, and forced himself to think about something else.

However. Because of this. Renjun has never actually allowed himself to think about what he’d do if he saw you in person.

Which is why he has no idea what the fuck would possess him to tell Donghyuck he’d go to your game.

He wasn’t even sure why he did it. Before Hyuck mentioned anything about volleyball Renjun had already been mashing his refusal into the keyboard, as on a normal afternoon Donghyuck’s request would have been met with a swift no, much less after a stressful weekend back home, two delayed flights, and an unedited essay waiting on his laptop waiting be turned in before midnight. The last thing he wanted to do was muck around some house party or fraternity kickback with a bunch of people he didn’t know.

I’d rather walk back to Jilin, he’d been typing, lips already pulled into a scowl, You have six hundred other friends who actually LIKE going to things like this, why do you always insist on harassing me with—

But then the next message that popped onto the screen had his fingers freezing over the send button.

Volleyball game, Hyuck had said. It was right there in the gray bubble. Staring back at him, surrounded by exclamation marks, like there was a chance he’d miss it.

Volleyball, he thought.

As in… the game taking place tonight? The one the women’s team is playing in?

The women’s team that you told him you were on?

And then everything happened so quickly. The part of his brain that controlled self-preservation flatlined, and before he could think better of it he told Donghyuck he’d go. 6 o’clock came in the blink of an eye and then all of a sudden Renjun was… here. Stuck to Donghyuck’s side in one of the many SNU stadium gyms, his stomach twisting in his body because his stupid, thoughtless desire to see you meant he didn’t realize until it was too late what he’d done— which was secretly show up here with the intention to watch you without you knowing, like a creep, potentially risking screwing up everything if you found out and—

Donghyuck nudged him out of his turmoil. "You want to see something cool?" he asked excitedly. Renjun followed his pointed finger to one of the banners hanging from the rafters on the walls.

He wasn't sure what he was looking at until the banner shifted against the wind of the airconditioning and the title became visible.

Women's Volleyball National Champions, 4X!

“Kim Doyeon,” Donghyuck had said proudly, “Mine, right there, number 22; but she was only vice captain, then! Now look at her. Moving up in the world…”

Renjun tuned him out as he looked over the banner, really looking over it, swallowing thickly as the letters danced against the breeze. This banner was from earlier this year. Your name was on there somewhere. Hyun Mijoo…? Could you be a Mijoo?

The buzzer rang then, a jarring sound that almost made Renjun leap out of his seat, but to everyone else in the stadium it must’ve signaled something exciting because the chattering amped up tenfold.

Without warning, a little under a dozen girls streamed out of the tunnel to the far right of the court, and the entire half of the gym that they were sitting in erupted into cheers. Renjun’s stomach began to twist like he was committing some sort of crime.

Donghyuck was whistling, howling for his girlfriend like a man possessed; and Kim Doyeon, the girl who’s heart he was here to mend, was the first one in the pack. Renjun's eyes followed her as she walked onto the court, expression calm, long brown hair pulled into two braids on the back of her head. She was a real force of nature— and Renjun wasn’t only saying this because she was taller than him— but because as if she wouldn’t be sought after just for being tall and attractive; she was treasurer for the student government, studying to become a pediatrician, and genuinely very, very nice. The whole perfect triangle.

He was sure that half the guys in the bleachers were going to have their eyes locked on her for the whole evening despite the fact that Donghyuck was right here; because without trying, she just commanded that type of attention.

Though. If someone were to ask Renjun what color her knee pads were, or whether the hair-tie in her braids were black or white, he would draw a huge, blinking blank. Why?

Because right behind Doyeon, hair tugged into a ponytail and practically hopping down the court with a giant smile on their face, was you.

The selfie you’d sent him that first week you started talking hadn’t been nearly as mysterious as his. Even surprising himself, he recognized instantly the curve of your chin, the warmness of your skin; your eyes looked the same even from halfway across the room, shiny and bright and squinted into a grin as you and Doyeon and the other members of the team jogged to the center of the court.

In the span of a second, he stopped hating himself for being here just a little bit less.

“God,” Donghyuck whined, “Maybe this was a mistake. I can never think right when she’s in that damn uniform. Isn’t she just so…?”

He couldn't help but try to memorize everything he saw; to confirm or deny everything he'd ever wondered. From here, it didn’t look like you were that much shorter than Doyeon. The top of your head might hit around Renjun’s nose, maybe his top lip if the perspective was giving you another inch.

“Actually don’t answer that, unless you want to get bit. Only I get to think about how hot she is. Fucking hell.”

For some terrible reason he chose then to wonder if you were stronger than him. You’d been threatening to beat him up lately, your go-to response for whenever he said anything you didn’t like— like telling you to go to bed, and scolding you when you shucked off doing your classwork to wander around campus and prowl for animals to take pictures of— and Renjun always shrugged it off, positive that you were all talk, but now he wasn’t sure. He doesn’t work out. You look like you work out. Your legs looked awfully long in those shorts, and when he watches you stretch your arms above your head he notices the curve of your waist, too.

He swallowed a second time— this one much more difficult than the first.

“Hey… Hello? Earth to LunJeon? What the… Dude, tell me you’re actually not staring at my girlfriend right now?”

A whistle blew, the huddle broke up, and the crowd cheered again. A bunch of girls left the court. He wasn’t sure why only six remained from each team, the opposing school’s red and yellow uniforms on one side and Seoul National’s black and white on the other, but you happened to be one of the ones that stayed and that was all he really cared to notice.

“Or— Wait, is it— Are you looking at Y/N? Ponytail?”

It was like someone popped a rubber band right next to his ear. The sounds of the room snapped back into his mind, no longer muffled and distant— Renjun whipped around.

Ponytail?

“What?”

“You were looking at Y/N!”

Donghyuck must’ve read the startled look on Renjun’s face as confusion and not the horror it actually was from realizing he was staring so blatantly, because he quickly elaborated. “Number 10,” he hissed, “The libero!”

“I don’t know what a libero is,” Renjun said just as fast, instantly defensive, but on the inside his mind was going a hundred miles an hour. Your jersey had a big, silver 10 on the back. He really was talking about you.

Y/N? That's your name?

Donghyuck didn’t look fooled by this response in the slightest, still watching Renjun with clear alarm that he’d just found his friend paying attention to a girl for once, but before he could ask anything else Renjun scowled and turned his attention back to the game— careful, now, to pretend like he was looking at the opposing team.

“I was looking at her because I was trying to figure out why her shirt is a different color. I’ve never been to a volleyball game. I don’t know why—”

“Even if, you were like— super staring, dude. I was talking to you and you didn’t hear me!”

“Ignoring you is nothing new,” Renjun muttered. “Are you going to answer my question or not?”

“What question?”

“Why is number ten wearing white shirt, when everyone else is wearing black?”

His friend blinked back at the court, obviously skeptical, like he still wasn’t sure if he was really just asking about your clothing choice. “Y/N’s the libero,” Donghyuck eventually relented, “It means that her main job over everything else is just making sure the ball never touches the ground. You’ll see soon enough. She’s stupidly good at it. Gonna be flying all over this court.”

The whistle blew, the sound that signaled that the game was really about to start; And fly you did. But instead of the vague interest in your skill that he was expecting to feel, instead, within minutes of the match starting his stomach was in knots.

Cuts and bruises appeared to be the least of your concerns. Renjun watched, slack-jawed, as you tossed yourself all over the stadium; to the point that he started to lose track how many times you completely pancaked your body to the hardwood, an arm outstretched just in time to smack the ball into the waiting hands of another teammate— only to get back on your feet without a second of hesitation and do it again a moment later. The first time he’d seen it he was startled— by both the action, and the fact that everyone just kept going afterwards. Wasn’t anyone going to check on you? Or call a time-out, or something? There’s no way that wasn’t going to bruise; how was the game still on?

The second time you hit the ground led quickly into the third, and by the fourth time Renjun saw you dive to the hardwood, the sound of your body hitting the ground audible even from where he was sitting, his shock had transformed into something else: a cold, uncomfortable pit in his gut.

He was worried about you. And realizing this was as embarrassing as it was horrifying. Worried? Half an hour ago he didn’t even know your name. Who was he to get concerned about your health, to the point that every hit nearly made him wince?

This game was just more brutal than he thought; he'd be this worried about anyone.

(He chose not to think about his reaction to one of the harder times you’d fallen— how sharply his breath got caught in his throat when you’d hit the ground after a particularly long volley after halftime, a nasty spill that had the bleachers tittering in concern. You took longer to bounce back to your feet like usual, a grimace painted onto your face instead of your usual determination, and with each passing second that you didn’t get up Renjun’s lungs felt like they were being squeezed in someone's fist. Only after you rolled to your feet did he realize he’d been digging his nails into the seat— and when the realization hit him, the little knowing crescents left behind in the plastic, he’d gotten so embarrassed that he banned himself from looking at you again until the game ended.)

17 to 9.

Weakly, he watched you hop around with Doyeon on the court after the final whistle, hand in hand with congratulations to spare.

Despite his own guilt-caused exhaustion, seeing you smile was… nice. No matter how awful an idea it had been to come here, he couldn’t deny that. His stupid desire had been granted: Now he just had to find a way out of here without being seen. He'd usher Donghyuck to go find his girlfriend, tell him he needed to use the bathroom or something and just disappear into the night, and since everyone else was leaving now and you were thankfully standing on the complete opposite side from the exits, it probably wouldn't be too risky to just go now—

“Doyeon-ie!” Donghyuck wailed.

Half the people surrounding them turned, including a few faces from the court. Including Doyeon. Including you.

And Renjun could only watch as your attention found his friend— and then, as Donghyuck sprouted to his feet and grabbed Renjun’s sleeve to haul him up too, how your wide eyes drifted to his.

Donghyuck bounded down the stadium stairs, madly waving his free hand around like you and Doyeon could have possibly managed to not hear his howling— and your best friend’s jaw all but dropped, disbelief written all over her face. You, however, only held back a sigh of relief.

So you chose life, you thought, surprise instantly overtaken by satisfaction as he neared. Good. I guess I won’t have to stick my foot up your ass after all.

As Doyeon’s awe melted into a grin, what caught your attention quickly thereafter was the wide-eyed, absolutely horrified looking boy that Donghyuck was dragging along behind him. When they came close enough to touch and Donghyuck let him go to pull your friend into a whirling hug, he seemed to freeze in place.

“What are you doing here?” Doyeon asked, “I thought you said you had a frat thing...?”

“I did,” Donghyuck said sheepishly, “I do, actually, since it’s actually still happening right now, but I told Mark I had something I couldn’t miss tonight and kinda just… dipped? I really wanted to see you. I turned my phone off so he wouldn’t be blowing up my messages while I was here."

And in one fell swoop, Doyeon’s heart warmed over. If you weren’t happy for her you’d roll your eyes at his save; guy probably has no idea how close he’d just flown to the sun.

"You did great tonight, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes. “What about me, Hyuck? Did I do great?”

He doesn’t even look at you properly. Just glances at you over his girlfriend's shoulder.

“Could’ve done without all the showing off,” he said, devoid of all that sweetness he’d just been showering Doyeon in. Of course. Fucker. “Can’t say you didn’t carry tonight, though. Good save in the third quarter but Jesus, when are you going to stop putting your ribs on the line to save a point?”

“When it stops winning us games,” you shrugged. “Like you have the right to say that when you’re out there getting tackled every other week by angry little men in soccer cleats—”

“Soccer is different, stupid.”

“The hell it is. Not in this context—”

“Yes, in this context! There’s no way you should be risking knocking a lung out of place in a non-contact sport just to—”

“It’s the nature of the game! I don’t know what makes you think that because volleyball isn’t a ‘tackle-your-opponents’ type sport, that—”

“Guys,” Doyeon interrupted. You both turned to her. “Um. Are you going to introduce us to your friend, Hyuck?”

You blinked.

Oh. Right. Right. You turned your attention back to the new face.

Game-goers were passing through the court to leave the gym, now. Friends of the team were doing much like Donghyuck did, wandering down to the floor for congratulatory hugs and high-fives, which meant there were people pretty much everywhere; students, athletes, family and friends, team staff, a million people moving and talking and existing at once, but... But for some reason, this guy was only staring at you.

Unsure what else to do, you simply stared right back.

Up close like this you couldn’t help but notice that he was actually quite cute. Very cute. In a cool, composed kind of way, even though he looked like he’d bolt out of the room if someone so much as dropped a water bottle near him right now. Wavy brown hair, big, dark eyes, an adorably downturned pout— You probably would have been more amazed by his beauty if the sickly look on his face wasn’t starting to make you worry.

Did you know him from somewhere? Is that why he was looking at you like this?

Donghyuck sighed as if Doyeon had asked him to run three times around the building instead of be a good friend. “I mean… I suppose I should, right? Fine. My dear Doie. Beelzebub.” You made a move as if you were going to punch him and he jumped to hide behind Doyeon. “Meet Junnie, my favorite social recluse, and pretty much the only reason I didn’t fail my classes freshman year. Thought I’d pop his university-outing cherry tonight.”

Oh? Wait a second. You perked up a little. “The roommate?” you asked. “The one you told me about that one time? Hoo..ang, something? Renjun?”

Renjun’s mouth opened a little, but no sound came out. You waited for him to respond. Doyeon stared at him. Donghyuck, as if only now sensing his friend's state, finally turned to look at him too. He only continued to stare back at you.

“Not much of a talker, huh? That’s fine. Doyeon likes to say I can talk enough for two on my—”

“Huang,” Renjun said suddenly. Startlingly. (Even his voice was cute. Much lower than you were expecting from a face like that.)

“Huh?”

“My name,” he added quietly. “You said Hoo-Ang. It’s Huang.”

“Huang?”

You couldn’t help the nagging feeling that he was expecting you to notice something just then— he stood there with almost visibly bated breath, rigidity in every feature as he watched you, but no bells were being rung. Maybe the kid was just… nervous? Just because you had no concept of social cues, able to befriend just about anyone and everyone given enough time with your unabashed personality, didn’t mean that others threw normal concepts like demurity to the wind too.

You shrugged, hit him with your best smile, and held your hand out. You weren't quite sure what his deal was, but something about him intrigued you.

After looking between your hand and you as if expecting you to snatch it back and laugh in his face or something, Renjun put his very, very clammy palm to yours.

“Well, Huang,” you told him firmly, “It’s nice to finally put a name to a face, huh?”

(If you’d been privy to his thoughts then, the single word in his head that he wouldn’t have dared to say out loud— for multiple reasons other than the fact that he’d apparently forgotten how to fucking speak— you would have heard his weak, disbelieving, “Likewise.”)

a/n: pls leave a like if you enjoyed! i'm finally out of writers block mfs

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