sports photography!au

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sungwoon, my children *cries in uwu*

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A whiz. A stream of yells. A colliding of bodies and sports equipment. Then a millisecond of stillness.

"And Yoon Dowoon saves it, right on time!!!" rings out across the stadium, the PR's booming timbre raising the crowds to their feet. There's a deafening boom – reds, blacks, navies fill the air – and Park Sungjin's heavily trembling fingers click the shutter one too many times than needed. This game's nothing like what he's ever seen before. It's way too wild for his liking – the steadiness which usually taps his heart while he clicks away at swimming competitions and tennis matches has been replaced by a blood-thirsty viciousness akin to wild boars, dusky tusks and matted fur clashing in a battle of strength and survival. Hockey is a goddamn unforgiving sport, the photographer finds himself thinking, already shoving a new SD card into the slot. Then he's wiping the lens and training in on the center of action, not even daring to change the aperture in fear of missing something important, something infinitesimal which can cost him the front page. "With one minute left on the clock, the Pirates must score to get the lead if they want to ascend to the finals! Will the unexpected slew of saves from the goalkeeper rookie entice them to earn a goal ahead of the Bandits?"

The crowd's chants grow louder and louder still until they become a never-ending loop of fizz in Sungjin's thumping ears. He makes a mental mark to bring earplugs next time and gently bites into his tongue when he momentarily loses sight of the puck. Then it's back in his vision, heading toward the Pirates' goal once again, the spectators going wild and beating on the protective glass in bloodlust. The visitors will go down tonight, they chant. The Pirates' ship will sink along with their crew. They don't stand a chance against the reigning champions: the almighty, unbeatable, overbearing Bandits! But the score says otherwise. 0-0... In favor of neither team, in a way. As the puck soars past the left wing defensive in a desperate flight towards the visiting team's goal, the goalkeeper's glove determinedly plucks it out of the air as if it is a fig swinging on a tree in a light summer breeze. Everything seems still – Sungjin can only hear the sound of his shutter going wild as the goalkeeper drops the black cylinder before his stick, madly surging forward, and, with fourteen seconds left on the board, evades the opposing forwards, then the central players, and – out of nowhere – sends a long shot toward the upper left corner of the enemy's goal, deadly on target and deafeningly legitimate. The Pirates have won. "G-ggggg-GOAL!!!"

It's a sight to be seen, for sure. Sungjin himself coughs back a holler of amazement, the measly second of remaining time finally blinking out and being replaced by an enormously flashy and lavish "GOAL!" sign, dancing its way across the moving screen and fading out of and into itself in a heavily pixelated loop. The photographer grunts as he finds that there are only 200 photographs available on his SD card and more carefully clicks away at the shutter. This time, his eye catches the reactions of the opposing teams. While the underdogs are victorious yet humble, hugging among their teammates and celebrating with their coach without directly bothering the Bandits, the defeated champions are sulky and glare daggers at the Pirates. 50 clicks, and Sungjin calls it a closed case. He lifts his camera off the tripod and begins to put his equipment away.

Suddenly a sturdy form crashes into the glass directly in front of him, breaking through it somehow, and lands in his conveniently outstretched arms. The hockey player sheepishly smiles, the tooth guard protecting his braces-clad teeth failing to hide the genuine apology captured in the young man's grin. "Hey, I'm so sorry! I think the bandits are angry with me..."

And just as Sungjin realizes that he's holding the one and only star rookie in his arms, a fist collides with his face and he falls back onto a bench.

Ten minutes later, the fight has been broken up, and the Bandits have been banned from competing for a three-month period. Sungjin just barely recalls throwing his fists and allowing them to catch anything and anyone in his range, other than the form protectively lying over him and shielding him from outside attacks, of course. His eyes had been filled with waves of fear, his ears with a deafening buzz, his nose — the stench of blood. And now he sits in the Pirates' changing room, his head tilted upwards as a member uninvolved in the fight presses an ice pack to his bleeding nose. "Seems like you got a bit of extra content today, eh?"

The photographer chuckles out in affirmation. Then a regretful sigh escapes him. "It was uncalled for. The Bandits should have taken their defeat as a lesson."

"Yeah... Not everyone understands that. Makes me pity them."

Sungjin's grunt causes the tall brunette to chuckle. No. 8, Sungjin notes. No. 8...? Who had that been again? "Kang Younghyun?"

"I'm him."

"You played well."

"Why thank you. Let me guess... You must be the infamous Park Sungjin." The young guy grins as the photographer gives out an affirmation, then takes the ice pack away from the blonde's nose before reapplying it with a bit more pressure. Sungjin involuntarily flinches. "I may have played pretty damn well, but Dowoonie really was something, today, wasn't he? Stole the spotlight, he did."

The photographer loosely nods, careful to not disturb the cooling material being pressed to his stinging nose. "Has he always been that great in competition?"

Younghyun scoffs. "The kid's a hockey genius. What else would you expect from his first game?"

"First game?!"

"Mhm. For us it isn't that surprising. The whole team knows hockey's the only thing he's exceptional at."

"I'm sure that's not true..."

"Don't fight me on this, please, Sungjin-ssi. I love the kid to death, but he could really use some time away from hockey... Time away from everything. We've been trying to get him to take a break for ages, but all he does in his free time is play video games and practice goalkeeping. It's really gotten out of hand..."

Sungjin's fingers steal the ice pack from Younghyun's hand, and the blonde more gently applies it to his own sore nose. "I see. That's a shame – he seems like a nice guy."

"He is! He really is..." No. 8 sighs and his hands fall to his sides, caressing the bench as if it's the closest thing to comfort he can find at the moment. The clock on the wall ticks away as its perimeter is eaten away by time – tock, tock, tock, tock – then a soft rustling reveals a freshly bandaged rookie goalkeeper making his way over to the pair sitting on the bench.

"Hey, what're you two talking about?"

"Yah! Dowoon-ah, I love you, but where are your manners?!"

"Oh!" The young goalie sends two bows of apology. Sungjin, from his awkward position with his chin raised at an obtuse angle to his neck, notes the rookie's set-ablaze ears and stores the sight in the *desirable to see once more* file in his well-organized brain. "Hello! I'm Yoon Dowoon! And you are..?"

"Park Sungjin. Sports photographer." He doesn't hold out his hand. He never does.

"Woah, jinja?! Did you get any good snaps of my shot?!"

Younghyun gently slaps his hyperactive teammate upside the head. "You egoistic dipshi—"

"Actually, I did."

Dowoon excitedly plops himself down beside the blonde, the bench stretching away into the distance between his excitedly fidgeting thighs. The photographer can't find the nerve to push the young man away even though he's invading his space. And Sungjin is never this tolerant. Sungjin instantly begins to doubt his sanity following the strike to his face. "Ah, jinja?! Could you show me?"

And – directly disregarding his usual answer of 'You'll get to see them on the front page anyway' – Sungjin's tongue suggests, "Only if you buy me food and take me to the movies."

"Done!"

So that's how the two of them end up sitting in the middle of an empty cinema, masks pulled down to make way for the food magically shoveling itself out of the seat between them (which they have filled up with snacks, meals, and all that good stuff) and dispensing itself into their outstretched mouths.

"This movie sucks," Dowoon garbles out, and Sungjin gasps in offence.

"Far from it! It's a romantic masterpiece, I tell you!"

"Then why have the main leads not made out yet? It's been at least an hour!"

"Aish..." The older man (who is now addressed, not as Sungjin-sunbae-nim, not as Sungjin-ssi, but simply as Sungjin-hyung) pats a napkin over his left nostril, out of which a slight trickle of blood still protrudes, then reaches for yet another pack of chips. "Love isn't always about sharing saliva and moaning each others' names, Dowoon-ah... There's more to it than that." He pauses, stuffs a chip in his mouth, and chews, chews, chews, until it's no more than a trace of crumbs resting on his tongue. "You see... It's kind of... I'll put it in a way you might understand a bit better. It's like a hockey team. You can't just have one team member who does everything... There has to be a goalkeeper, strikers, defenders, the like. There's a balance to it. Otherwise, the game will flop and the teams facing each other will be miserable. You get what I'm saying, kid?"

"I guess... My hyungs really help in the match. I just rescue them at times of danger and sometimes assist in scoring. That's what you mean, right?"

"Right."

There's a short moment of silence, filled with the female lead's regretful monologue. By the looks of it, she just gave up her lover to pursue a life of freedom, a life of travel and adventure and cold nights on foreign balconies. Dowoon shifts in his seat with a curt sniffle. "Being in a team is about sacrifice and improvement, hyung. You have to give up your independence sometimes in favor of your unity, and you have to constantly work on yourself to stay in shape and be ready for the upcoming game." He suddenly stands up, trips over to the empty seat beside Sungjin's. "It... It gets so tiring, sometimes. And so frustrating. But I'm trying to get better, and I'm doing my best to work together with the team. But sometimes I go off on my own and mess everything up. Not only for myself, but for everyone."

"Why are you telling me this?" The photographer murmurs out, his lips pulled into a curious pout.

The hockey player sidles down into the velvety seat and leans over the armrest just as the characters on the screen lean forward and begin to speak onto one another's lips in a mournful farewell. "I want one last night of freedom before I go back to the team and commit myself to working together with my hyungs. And that means that I can do anything... I... Want." His face is in front of Sungjin's, his breath is fanning over the older's bruised lips, his lips are reaching forward in a desperate search for a release. And then the blonde tastes the sweet flavor of red bean paste and aloe pulp, savory, soft, overpowering. His knees buckle in the seat, he sinks down into it with Dowoon following like a sheet spread over a falling mattress, he clenches his eyes shut in a wild, headspinning 'WHAT IS GOING ON?' 'WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS?...'

'WHY DO I LIKE IT SO MUCH?!'

His lips hungrily spread to encompass those covering his own, and the once-rigid photographer gives in to the sweetness. It's fast-paced, it's sensual, it's in the goddamn movie theater in the dark with two people making out in a romantic film in the background... It's more than Sungjin could have ever dreamed of. Dowoon pulls away with a graze of his braces-clad teeth over the older man's upper lip. "I know making out is only one of the things couples do, but it's one of the more pleasant things, I think," he whispers over the shell of the blonde's ear.

All Sungjin can do is nod and nonchalantly tug at the goalkeeper's collar, asking for another round.