Work Text:
minseokie
you up?
yeah
what’s up
i have something to tell you
oh sure
what is it
minseokie
at the end of the year
wait, hold on
i’m heading on ahead without you
i’m leaving t1
-
When it happens, Minseok wishes he could say he was blindsided. Wishes he could say he was taken completely off guard, that he had no idea whatsoever that it was going to happen. It’d blow into a dramatic, explosive confrontation about keeping secrets and hiding feelings, complete with an argument under the rain.
At least, with this series of events, he could say he resisted. He’d say he fought, begged, bargained, did everything that the internet ends up doing when the announcement gets posted on November 17, 2025.
The reality is far quieter. The reality is that Minseok had known, without anyone telling him, for many months, and worse, he didn’t fight.
At least, he thinks, it’s a sign of our synergy. For me to know your own feelings before you even have the chance to tell me.
“Minseokie,” Minhyung says. “I’m sorry.”
He stares at Minhyung. Minseok had been totally numb all the way up to this point, unfeeling through the meeting announcement and when Minhyung stood up in front of the room to speak. The sound of Minhyung’s apology sends his thoughts and feelings into overdrive, racing faster than he can process.
“What’re you sorry about?” he asks, tone calmer than he actually feels. He knows exactly what Minhyung is sorry about. “Didn’t I already tell you that I get it?”
That was the worst part, Minseok thinks. That at the end of the day, past all the dread and anger, Minseok really did understand. They shared the same hunger, the same desperation, and they both used it to keep themselves going. They relied on it, needed it more than anything.
Minhyung only shrugs.
They’re standing in the hallway outside the meeting room, the same one where Minhyung made the official reveal to the team. Other than them, the hallway is empty, the meeting room having emptied out minutes earlier.
At this point in time, the 2025 World Championships have not yet taken place. They haven’t dragged themselves through semis, quarters, swiss, or even play-ins. Their past international losses still hang over their heads as they push through game after game. It’s the calm before the storm, except a different storm has torn through the quiet halls of T1 headquarters and Minseok’s entire world.
“I’m sorry that I’m leaving,” Minhyung repeats the words he’d spoken to the team not even a full hour earlier.
Minseok shivers against his will when he hears the words. A part of him rebels against them. His eyes choose to settle on the spot of wall right behind Minhyung’s ear, if only so that he can still stay facing his direction.
“Listen, Minhyung,” he says. “It’s okay. I told you that I get it, okay? I understand, and I respect your decision. If you want me to be mad, then too bad, I’m not. The only thing I could be mad about is how I wasted that one interview question. I could’ve made it way cooler.”
He can see the way Minhyung flinches back briefly at the reminder of the interview. It was the interview where Minseok was asked about his time working alongside Minhyung in T1.
“I believe we’ll have a better performance in the future,” he’d said then, staring straight at the camera with conviction and determination in his heart. “I believe we’ll be doing a lot better together in the future.”
Now, those words feel flimsy. Their future no longer looks endless like it did before. There’s an end point where there used to be infinity, and there’s a pit in his stomach when he thinks about reaching it.
Minhyung regains his composure and stubbornly shakes his head. “I said that to the team. But to you…Minseok, I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry that we couldn’t stay together. That I couldn’t make us stay together. That…I’m too greedy to stay. I wish…”
The words make Minseok take a sharp breath and look away quickly. The words are everything he wanted to hear, but they’re also the last things he wants. He can’t take it, not when he knows Minhyung’s made up his mind already. It was one thing to accept Minhyung’s determination to move forward, but to hear his regrets…
Their synergy really was superb. Their ideas matched, their moves matched, and at this moment, all Minseok could think about was how he’d always look to his side and be surprised that the person sitting there would never be Minhyung. Because that was the only outcome, and he didn’t need Minhyung’s regret to keep him from accepting it.
He doesn’t say it out loud. Instead, he exhales, and he jabs Minhyung in the arm.
“It’s okay,” he repeats like a broken record. “It’s…it’s okay. Don’t feel regret, Minhyung. Don’t you dare. We made our mark, didn’t we? You kept your promise. We’re the best duo in the world.”
He raises his head, locking eyes with Minhyung, and he says with a lot more bravado than he actually feels, “And we’re going to prove it again, and you’ll move forward with no regrets.”
Something bright sparks behind Minhyung’s eyes, the same spark that drew Minseok in so many years ago and kept him going through so many cold nights. Already, though, it feels like the cold has returned.
“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “You and me. We’ll win, one more time.”
-
Minhyung’s farewell party is, despite everything, full of energy.
They have an entire section of a restaurant booked out, all sponsored by T1. The whole team is there, along with their coaches, managing staff, and even some people from the Challengers team. Within a couple of hours, the room is filled with chatter and the increasing howls of the ever lively group.
Minseok thinks he does his best at nursing his own drink, except at one point, he isn’t quite sure if it’s the same drink he started the night with. Faces are red all around. For a moment, Minseok catches Minhyung’s eye from across the table, and he can’t tell where the overwhelming flush that overtakes him comes from.
“I’m going to get some air,” Minseok whispers to the nearest person, Hyunjoon, who only distractedly nods as he’s fending off a drunken Hyeonjun hellbent on invading his personal space. Minseok squints at the two of them for a little bit, not really sure what he’s looking at, before deciding to move.
Rising to his feet, Minseok makes what he is sure is a discreet escape from the festivities, making a beeline for the side door leading outside.
There’s a strong chill in the air, and Minseok shivers a little, idly thinking that he should've put on another layer. The cold sobers him up a little.
A few seconds pass with Minseok staring blankly into nothingness, and then, behind him, he hears the sound of the door opening and closing.
“Escaping already?” he laughs, turning his head slightly to catch the way Minhyung smiles at him.
“Had to,” Minhyung chuckles, coming to stand beside Minseok. “Any longer, and I was worried either Hyeonjun was going to succeed with whatever he’s doing or Hyunjoon-hyung was going to kill him before he could.”
Laughter bursts out of both of them. When silence settles between them, Minseok’s eyes fall to the ground. He can feel his heart frantically thumping in his chest, the weight of reality threatening to cave in on him. There’s a part of him that still wishes that this was just a bad dream.
“Minseokie—”
“Minhyungie—”
They both startle, and Minhyung laughs. “Still in sync,” he says. Stepping closer, he nudges Minseok. Their hands brush. “You first.”
His heart leaps into his throat, and he has to tear his eyes away from Minhyung. His hand twitches, and he thinks about what he wants to say. Everything crossing his mind seems paltry, unable to properly address how he feels and what it is between him and Minhyung.
When he glances back, his breath catches. Everything seems to go still. Minseok eats in the way Minhyung’s staring at him, the gentle curve of his smile and how the artificial light of the restaurant illuminates him from above.
He wants, he wants, he wants—
“Minhyungie, I—”
The words freeze in his throat, unable to come out. They’re the words Minseok’s been wanting to say, waiting to say, for years and years. And year after year, he’d choke them down, throttle and kill them before he could speak them into existence.
Minhyungie, I—
“I’m really thankful,” he says instead. He stares into Minhyung’s eyes, hoping to convey everything he can’t say through sheer gaze alone. Hoping that their synergy, soon to disappear, will work one more time. “Thank you for being by my side all these years. For playing with me, through all the highs and lows. Thank you for your trust and care. Thank you, because if not for you, I wouldn’t find myself standing next to the best ADC in the world.”
Minhyung’s eyes soften, and they even look a little misty. Minseok soldiers on.
“And…I’m just glad that I had you, you know?”
Minhyung smiles, pushing his shoulder against him. It makes him rock back slightly. “No. I had you.”
Minseok feels his heart almost explode, and he has to tear his gaze away for a moment. His ears feel like they’re on fire, and he can only desperately hope the flush on his face can be attributed to the drinks he had.
“My turn?” Minhyung asks when Minseok is silent for a few too many seconds. Without waiting for a response, he begins speaking.
“Minseokie, it was a blessing to play with you all these years. I’d wake up and think that I must’ve done something amazing in my past life to be able to stand next to you and call you mi…my support. I don’t regret this decision to leave T1, but Minseokie…can I tell you a secret?”
Minseok nods, struck silent, and Minhyung leans in.
“I don’t regret leaving, but I think a part of me will always regret leaving you.”
The words hit him like a gunshot. He fights the urge to recoil, to flinch away, to hide from what Minhyung is telling him. But another, angrier part of him reared its head.
He thinks back to the years they had been together. Years playing side by side, years learning each other inside and out. He remembers, back in the beginning, when he was always looking at Minhyung and Minhyung was always looking away. And when Minseok stopped looking, burying himself in the game instead, he started feeling eyes following him wherever he went.
If they were anything, Minseok thinks, and if they were to ever become anything, they would only ever be a maybe. He’d accepted it. He had to.
But now…if there was no game that was always tearing their eyes away from each other, they wouldn’t have to be a maybe anymore.
“Minhyung,” he says firmly, staring into Minhyung’s ever-gentle eyes. “No. I’m saying this to Gumayusi. Go into this year with no regrets. Not a single one. Don’t regret leaving T1. Don’t regret leaving me. The Minhyung that I know…no…the Gumayusi that I know would never have those regrets. He’d shoulder any burden, let any hardship pass, and he’d keep on moving forward.”
And if Gumayusi has no regrets leaving me, maybe Minhyung can be the one staying, Minseok thinks. The thought, the sheer potential of it makes him want to smile.
He’s about to verbalize it when Minhyung speaks up again.
“You’re right,” Minhyung hums. “Minseok. Between you and me, I’m the one moving on.”
Minseok freezes. “Huh?” Despite the words he’d just said, something about the tone Minhyung uses sends a chill down his back. Moving on?
“Our relationship,” Minhyung continues idly, scuffing the floor lightly. “We’ve always been Gumayusi and Keria, haven’t we? But…we won’t be together anymore. There won’t be a Gumayusi-Keria duo anymore. We’ll just be two players on two different teams.”
Minseok stares, not comprehending the words coming out of Minhyung’s mouth. Something about the situation had gone far beyond what he’d been trying to wrangle. “But…” he tries. “What about just us? We can be Ryu Minseok and Lee Minhyung.”
At that, Minhyung turns to stare Minseok in the eyes and shakes his head. He hates the look on his face. It’s a look of acceptance, of resignation, of someone knowing he’s the bearer of bad news.
“We’ve never been just Ryu Minseok and Lee Minhyung.” There’s a pinched look on Minhyung’s face. “We never had the chance.”
No, Minseok thinks. Desperation begins to rise in his chest. It’s because we never took the chance. We were only a maybe.
“We can have our chance now,” Minseok insists. “If we won’t be Gumayusi and Keria anymore, maybe we can have the chance to be just Minhyung and Minseok. Right?”
A pause, and Minhyung shakes his head again. “We can’t.”
A stone plummets in Minseok’s gut. He seizes Minhung by the arm. “Why?” Minseok hates the way his voice shakes. “Why?”
Minhyung raises a hand to clasp Minseok’s wrist. He’s not looking at him anymore. “I need Gumayusi.”
He flinches back. “Oh.”
Minseok lets his hand fall limply back down to his side. Ever the dutiful support, he hears the words Minhyung doesn’t say out loud.
I need Gumayusi more than I need Ryu Minseok.
His hands feel numb, and Minseok can almost see the way the words he hoped to say wither away. They turn into ash, swept away by the cold wind of the night, scorched away by the crushing truth of Minhyung’s departure.
“Okay,” he manages to get out. He takes a step back, and the distance between them appears once again. “I get it. I understand. Fine. Go.”
Minhyung looks pained, and he raises a hand to reach out to him. But the distance is already there, gaping wide and never again to be closed.
“Minseokie—”
“Minhyung.”
He cuts him off, voice tight and cold as steel.
“I’m glad you have one regret. Because I don’t. I won’t. I’m happy to see you go, I really am. I’m happy to see you achieve your dreams and do what you want. I’m going to be happy when you win, or when I win, or when you beat me and I beat you. You know why? Because I…I…”
He kills the words again.
“Good luck, Minhyung,” he says quietly, stepping back towards the door. He doesn’t want to see what look Minhyung might be having on his face. “I…good luck.”
-
Kespa Cup is a tiring blur for Minseok, but despite that, he still throws himself into practice. His days back at T1 headquarters are spent practicing the game and practicing not jumping every time he looks to the side and sees Kim Suhwan.
It leaves him indignant. He knows Sanghyeok’s adjusted just fine to having the young ADC next to him while the two Hyunjoons are off in their own world at the other side. If anything, Hyunjoon looked very happy to see Suhwan seated amongst them while Hyeonjun has only ever been kind to him.
“I’ll do my best. Please take care of me. Um, let’s win a lot together,” Suhwan had said at their first official meeting, words rushing out one after the other as if he wasn’t sure which greeting phrase to use. It eased the coldness in Minseok’s chest, and he gently returned the greeting.
The cold returned, though, when they lost the first game of Kespa Cup. To HLE.
Minseok had never been more glad that only the finals would be in-person. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold himself back from throwing himself over the tables to strangle Minhyung. Whether or not he’d actually make it over or even have the reach to do it was an entirely different story. If he endeared himself enough to Suhwan, maybe he’d be willing to help him…the others would only laugh at him.
The interview afterwards only made him seethe more. Minhyung looked happy wearing his new jersey, eyes crinkling with every smile as he spoke in his cushy HLE headquarters…
“Minseok-ah.”
Minseok jumps, torn from his reverie. He looks in front of him where Sanghyeok is getting patted over to get back on stage. There’s a knowing look on his face that makes Minseok want to scowl.
“Don’t be like that, Minseok-ah,” Sangheyok says, a thin smile on his face. He takes a step forward, nodding once in his direction. “Get your best look on.”
Before Minseok can even try and ask what he means, Sanghyeok is already off, calm expression firmly affixed back over his face as he heads back out. A beckoning hand from the staff, and Minseok moves forward to take his place. He allows himself to be patted down, a quick affair, before he takes his first step forward.
Before he walks all the way out, Minseok sees one of HLE’s members move to the end of the walkway. His heart skips a beat, and his eyes lock in with Minhyung’s.
Time freezes. What must be a couple of seconds feels like minutes as Minseok stares at the man across from him.
He looks good, he thinks. More than good. Damn. Shit.
He hears the cue to step out, and time unfreezes. As he takes a step forward, he notices that Minhyung had also started walking out, and he can’t help but break into a smile.
Look at me, he thinks. I’m doing great.
Maybe the synergy is still there. How their thoughts used to sync, how they used to know what the other was about to say and do before they even did it. Minseok wants Minhyung to know he’s doing perfectly fine, that he never replayed his first HLE interview tens of times just to catch every detail, that he’s adjusted perfectly to having Suhwan at his side.
As he turns the corner to head to his seat, he sneaks one final glance at Minhyung, and Minhyung’s looking back at him, a smile on his face as well. He drinks in every detail he can, taking in his confident gait and how easy Minhyung seems to hold himself.
But Minhyung is the one who looks away first, and the moment ends.
“Everything okay, hyung?” he hears Suhwan call out to him amidst the din of the crowd. “You look happy.”
“Do I?” Minseok chuckles, flopping into his seat. He takes a long breath out, envisioning all his fiery red feelings exiting in one go. “I’ve got a good feeling about today.”
-
The moment they step backstage, a smile takes over Minseok’s face, and he can’t make it go away.
The entire time, though, he feels a heavy gaze on him. For a while, he isn’t sure who it’s coming from, with everyone seemingly focused on the post-game discussions.
As they’re all waiting to depart, Minseok standing a little ways off from the rest of the group, he hears someone sidle up next to him.
“You’re looking happy, Minseok-ah.”
“Ah, hyung,” Minseok says with a smile. “Of course I am! We won, after all.”
Hyunjoon stands before him, bag slung over his shoulder and hands in his pockets. There’s an odd look on his face, and in an instant, Minseok knows that it was Hyunjoon that had been watching him all this time.
“Minseok-ah,” Hyunjoon starts, voice a little quieter this time. It makes Minseok inch a little closer to catch what he’s saying. “I’m curious. Do you not feel guilty at all?”
He chokes on his next inhale, and Hyunjoon patiently waits for Minseok to stop coughing and heaving in his shock.
“Guilty? Why would I—” Minseok tries to deflect, but he stops short when he looks eyes with Hyunjoon. There’s no judgment on the other’s face like he feared. Only placid curiosity.
Minseok thinks back to the previous year, when Hyunjoon was starting out with them and he was facing Wooje from the opposite side of the rift for the first time. Wooje, who he’d played with for far longer than he’d played with anyone else. It left pangs in his chest, every time they won or lost. The losses left him frustrated, ready to bang his head against a wall, and the wins left him feeling invigorated but bitter at the look on Wooje’s face after.
“I didn’t like it,” he admits quietly. “Of course I didn’t. I was proud of him when he won and hated when we lost to him, but a part of me was also gutted when we beat him.”
“You know,” Hyunjoon says gently. “It’s okay to feel conflicted that you’ll be the reason Minhyung-ah loses. It’s an entirely understandable reaction. Hyukkyu-hyung used to tell me how tortured he felt, beating old teammates. I have my own experiences with it, too.”
“Ah,” Minseok says weakly. “I guess…” He thinks about how giddy he felt, walking off that stage. It was a giddiness that was different from his usual wins. There was the usual pang of regret that came with facing off against Wooje, but this time…it was different.
“Hyunjoonie-hyung,” Minseok says quietly. “Can I tell you a secret?”
A surprised look takes over Hyunjoon’s face, but he nods, stepping closer.
“I feel…” Minseok starts, voice petering off. “I actually felt great, when we won. More than great. I wasn’t just happy about winning. I was happy that I beat him, that I was his first opponent of the season and the first one to make him lose. His year started with him losing to me.”
He lets out a choked laugh, running a hand through his hair. He stares at his feet, suddenly afraid to see what look Hyunjoon has on his face. “Isn’t that…Isn’t that messed up? After all this time, everything that we went through together, I can’t even feel bad for beating him.”
“Minseok-ah.”
Something about Hyunjoon’s voice makes him snap his head up. The older’s gaze has somehow gentled even more, with him being the picture perfect image of relaxed as he leans close.
“I’ve been on a lot of teams,” he says quietly. “More than any of you. I know the feeling of beating old teammates and losing to them, too. It’s hard. I know it is.”
Minseok shakes his head. “No, hyung. I didn’t feel this way when I faced you in the past. Not Changhyun-hyung, or even Hyukkyu-hyung. Not even Hyukkyu-hyung, and you know how I feel about him. And Jihoon—”
Hyunjoon’s face turns to stone, and Minseok instantly realizes that he’s walked into a minefield.
“Oh,” is all he can manage.
“Jihoon and I…” Hyunjoon says flatly. “We weren’t even a maybe, not like you and… We both wanted more and more. More from the game, less from each other, and we both picked the game. And he…”
A pained look breaks through the stone. Hyunjoon shakes his head, face full of regret. “He didn’t need me, in the end. So I didn’t either.” The flat look returns, and Hyunjoon lets out a wry laugh.
“You know,” he says. “I thought I’d go crazy, with how much I wanted to beat him. I needed to prove him wrong. To show him that I wasn’t weak. That I could win, with or without him. I wanted to win without him, and I wanted him to lose without me.”
“Hyung—”
“Every time I saw him,” Hyunjoon continues, a faraway look on his face. “I could tell what he was thinking. He’d be thinking, ‘Look at me. Look at where I am, at how far I got. And look at where you are.’ It made me sick. But I am weak, Minseok-ah. I stopped being able to look him in the eyes.”
“Hyung…”
Hyunjoon leans in. “Minseok-ah. Don’t turn into what he and I became. I think you two are…you two can be better. You might not be GumaKeria anymore, but I think you can still be something better.”
“What could be better than Gumayusi and Keria?” Minseok snaps. The harshness is culled by the crack in his voice. “We were the best in the world.”
“In the world, yeah,” Hyunjoon agrees. “But you’re each other’s best. I think you’re best when you’re Minseok and Minhyung.”
“But he said—” Minseok’s voice peters out. “I said…We can’t be. All he wants is to be Gumayusi.”
Quiet falls between them. Minseok is beginning to think Hyunjoon doesn’t have an answer when the other finally speaks.
“I never said you were wrong,” he says. “Look at Jihoon, and look at me. Who’s the real loser, now? Show him what he lost, Minseok-ah. And if he sees it and wants it back, he’ll come back.”
-
When it happens, Minseok throws his phone across the room.
Hyunjoon, who happens to be in its path, yelps, ducking down. “Yah!”
Minseok can’t even find it in himself to apologize. He throws his hands up in the air and paces around the streaming room. He feels horribly flushed, body trembling with barely restrained fury.
He sees Hyeonjun nudge Hyunjoon lightly, nodding in his direction. “I think he saw it,” he said with a wide, shit-eating grin all over his face. “That thing I showed you earlier.”
Recognition dawns on Hyunjoon’s face, but he winces instead. “Ah,” he notes. “Minseok-ah, are you okay? Actually, is your phone okay? I thought I was going to die.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” he grounds out through gritted teeth. “I’m not mad at all. Why would I be mad? There’s literally nothing to be mad about. I don’t even know why I’m mad. For no reason, obviously. I am not mad!”
Hyunjoon and Hyeonjun glance at each other, then back at him. Hyeonjun looks completely unimpressed while Hyunjoon looks sympathetic.
“Weren’t you literally the one who turned down the duo skin?” Hyeonjun squints at him. “He asked. You shut it down.”
“Not even,” Hyunjoon said, shaking his head. “You said to his face, ‘I’m feeling Seraphine and Neeko.’ And he still suggested it again.”
Minseok recovers his phone, luckily intact, from a curious but quiet Suhwan. When he looks at the screen, the first thing he sees is Minhyung’s face, cheerfully smiling. It sends his already thudding heart racing even faster against his will.
He rewinds the video a little and presses play.
“I think if HLE wins Worlds this year,” Minhyung’s voice rings through the phone’s speakers. Minseok stares, transfixed. “We should make a Xayah-Rakan duo skin. Hwanjoong-ah’s signature champ is Rakan, after all.”
He watches as Minhyung looks to the side, speaking to an off-screen Delight. “Hey, if you win worlds, what skin would you pick? You’d go with Rakan, right?”
The faint sound of Delight’s response can be barely heard, and despite the non-answer he gives, there’s a satisfied look on Minhyung’s face when he faces the camera again. His eyes flicker to the camera, and there’s a brief moment where it feels like Minseok is right there in front of him instead of watching him from a screen, their eyes locking and all their thoughts shared with a single glance.
And here, Minseok knows that man is fucking proud of himself.
“Signature champ Rakan,” he mutters under his breath. He resumes pacing around the room, phone in hand. His ears ring a bit. “My Rakan is the best. I’m crazy on Rakan. Right? Of course I am. Right, Suhwanie?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Suhwan startle then nod nervously. “Of course, hyung. Um, you’re really good on Rakan. Uh, why—”
“Win Worlds, Xayah-Rakan skin, win Worlds this year,” Minseok mutters, trembling. He feels as if he’s going to explode. “He’s already picking out his Worlds skins when the year’s just begun. Is the punk that confident?”
“Bro, he literally asked you last year too if you’d do Rakan,” Hyeonjun calls out mockingly. “You turned him down two years in a row.”
“Maybe he just really wants to have a Xayah skin?” Suhwan adds tentatively.
“He didn’t want a Xayah skin when I asked him two years ago,” Minseok ground out. “If he just said yes then, he wouldn’t even be thinking about a Xayah-Rakan skin because it’d already exist!”
Hyunjoon scratches his head, and he not-so-quietly whispers to Hyeonjun, “Wouldn’t this all be fixed if he just changes to Rakan?”
“Actually, no,” Minseok spins on his feet, throwing himself back onto the couch. “I’m not mad about this. There’s nothing to be mad about. He wants that Xayah-Rakan skin so bad? Oh, hell no. He’s not getting that. Not on my watch. Just watch. T1 undefeated streak. T1 fucking Golden Roads all the way into worlds, and then we win worlds, and then I’m the one picking Rakan and Suhwanie will be picking Xayah and I’ll be the one getting that Xayah-Rakan skin.”
“Ah, but my favorite champ is—”
“T1 2026 Xayah-Rakan skin.”
Minseok turns his phone off, sitting with crossed arms and breathing hard. He still feels like he’s vibrating, heart racing like there’s no tomorrow.
There’s an ugly feeling in his gut. He wishes it was the buldak he had earlier in the day, but it feels more like a disgusting mix of anger, guilt, and…regret.
He knows Minhyung did it on purpose. He stared into the camera, and Minseok instantly knew that he was waiting for him to see that exact video. Because he would. He’d been chasing after footage of Minhyung in Camp One, stalking him across his socials, and on one shameful occasion, spent time ogling his recent gym stories on Instagram.
How dare he, he thinks. How dare he think he doesn’t need me anymore.
Minhyung wasn’t just a dreamer. Sure, he sat on his lofty wishes and did his damn hardest to achieve them, but there was more to him than that. He was starving, constantly craving success and victory more than anyone Minseok had met before. It was a hunger that Minseok felt himself, always felt when he sat in front of a computer.
Minseok understands hunger. Knows it better than anyone in the world, and he knows that when Minhyung sets his mind on something, he’s going to fight tooth and nail to see it through. Never once did he ever think less of him for that determination. He’d been proud of it, even, but for the first time in his life, Minseok wants to laugh.
“Good fucking luck,” he mutters under his breath. He feels the piercing but silent gazes of Hyunjoon and Hyeonjun boring into his head, but he refuses to acknowledge them.
-
“You know,” Hyeonjun says casually. “I bet Minhyung and Wooje will be watching us. They’re going to hope we lose.”
Minseok scowls. “I know.”
The idea had been weighing on him ever since he saw the results of Nongshim vs. KT. It was on T1, now, to seal their own fate.
Minseok wasn’t worried at all about the game. They were ready with their data, their drafts, and all of their practice was paying off. Every waking moment was spent reviewing, discussing, and practicing more and more. But the idea of Minhyung watching him behind a screen and actively rooting against him…it had a sour note to it.
“We won’t lose, of course,” Minseok says, leaning back and focusing on his phone. “Minhyung will have to get to the playoffs by himself. I believe in him.”
Left unsaid, though, and understood by only him, was “I’d like to see him try and get there without me.”
Maybe that was what was bothering him. Minseok had made it this far by himself just fine. Well, of course he had his team. He went through his regular motions with Sanghyeok, Hyunjoon, and the other Hyeonjun, finding the same steady confidence he’d had in them from the year before. With Suhwan, their progress was slow and steady. Minseok could even look at him during their games without being caught off guard that he was there, now.
They were on the cusp of clearing their first obstacle, and there was no doubt they would succeed. And there Minhyung was, in a tight spot that he’d usually jump to help him out of with no hesitation. If he was there…if he was there…
There was a part of him that wanted to be there. Sometimes, Minseok lay awake at night, imagining what life would be like if his contract also ended that year. If Minhyung said he was going to leave, Minseok probably would have wanted to follow him. Probably, if it meant he’d get better and he’d go further. He’d think about sitting next to Minhyung for another couple of years, knowing that there was no one else he’d rather have there. He’d be at the perfect distance to reach over and…
But he wasn’t. And Minseok could never say it, but if Minhyung made it through anyways, if he won his own games and battles without Keria, then did he really need him in the first place?
-
hey
hey
good luck today
really?
lol, is it so surprising that i’m wishing you good luck?
well
us winning means it’s worse for you guys, no?
that’s if we lose
we’ll win
i know we will
i believe in you
you’ll play well tomorrow
don’t miss me too much
thanks
we’ll meet again in play-offs
i won’t lose next time
we could meet up
we’ll see about that
-
It’s in the quiet after the game that Wooje finds Minhyung.
“We were shit today,” Wooje sighs, collapsing onto the couch. They’re in Minhyung’s dorm, Wooje having barged in. Minhyung had tried to drive him out, wanting to be alone, but Wooje had argued that if they were going to be depressed over being eliminated, they might as well be depressed together.
“Yeah,” Minhyung muttered. The ugly thought of how he was the only one on the team keeping it together surged up in his mind, but he choked it down before he could be tempted to voice it.
He occupied the space at the edge of the couch, watching as Wooje monopolized the rest as he turned over. He pushed down the surge of regret and resentment at the memory of the game. He’d already spent the last several hours replaying every second of it.
“It was so—” Wooje tries, flopping his arms around. “Ugh. It makes me want to throw up.”
“Please don’t throw up,” Minhyung pleads, leaning his head back. “I don’t think I can take that after today.”
Wooje turns over again, now face down on the couch cushions. He says something, but it’s too muffled for Minhyung to make out. He hums distractedly, the only indication he’s paying attention to the younger.
“Hyung.”
“Hm?”
“I feel like shit.”
Minhyung sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s okay. We’ll get back to work and do better next time. At least we have a lot of time now, right?” The words feel flat, but he tries his best to get them out, at least for Wooje’s sake.
“You can be honest,” he says quietly. Minhyung glances over at his prone body. “Your first official elimination in the great HLE. I know you were excited, hyung. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you get further.”
“...Don’t be sorry, Wooje-ah. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more. Let’s work hard together.”
The words are clinical, practiced. He’s used to comforting, and for someone he cares for that he hasn’t played with for a while, it’s all too easy to get back into it. Ease the guilt, encourage them for the future, promise company, hold hands if necessary. Check, check, check, though he wasn’t too interested in holding Wooje’s hand specifically.
That thought leads into another, of holding someone else’s hand as they cry, and his mood sours further.
“At least it’s not like Worlds…” Wooje murmurs. “We’ll bounce back from this. I’m sure we will.”
Worlds…
Like it had been yesterday, Minhyung could remember the cheers, the lights, the way the nexus flashed in victory. He’d held the trophy, both trophies, and he got to stand beside the only person he’d ever called his as he did it.
He’s never wanted something so desperately before. There’s a pull in his gut that urges him to get back up, to practice more and more until his hands give out and his eyes blur. It’s the pull that drags him through, year after year, until he gets his hands on that trophy again.
He’d felt good about the beginning. He really did. Minhyung had walked onto the stage with a head held high and the memory of someone he turned away from. He’d given everything he had for victory, and he’d do it again.
“Wooje,” Minhyung murmurs into the quiet air. “When you left last year, did you ever wish you didn’t?”
Wooje snaps his head up quickly at that, a panicked look on his face. “Minhyung-hyung, don’t tell me—”
“No, no, not like that,” Minhyung quickly interrupts him, realizing how his words could be interpreted. “I’m not second-guessing myself. I’ve made my decision, and I’m going to commit to it no matter what. I just…I wanted to know if you’ve ever looked back for us. For them.”
“Oh,” Wooje says. “Well, it was…I missed you guys, of course. I really missed you guys. If I had to be honest, well. Sometimes, after a hard day, I’d sit and think if things would be easier if I was still there with you guys.”
“We missed you, too,” Minhyung says automatically. He loved having Hyunjoon with them, of course, but he also couldn’t deny that there were times when he’d look at the far end of the table and be surprised that Wooje wasn’t there anymore.
Wooje’s cheeks flushed a little at the statement, and he smiled. “Why’d you ask, hyung?”
“I—”
His throat closes up, and all Minhyung can feel is shame at what he really wanted to ask Wooje.
“I really didn’t want to lose,” Minhyung murmurs. “Of course, that’s obvious. But today, I just had this feeling…that he was watching. I had to make him see me win. So that he’d look at the screen and think, ‘Oh, looks like he’s doing just fine on his own.’ But…”
He lets out a strangled laugh. “Isn’t that horrible? I want Minseokie to wish I never left.”
“Hyung,” Wooje says, voice sounding serious. It makes Minhyung look at him. Wooje’s eyes are glued to the floor, but his shoulders are squared, back straight, as he speaks.
“I got to see the LCK Cup again, when you guys only saw it once. When we won First Stand last year…I was so happy. I felt like I was on top of the world. But hyung… when I held those trophies, I couldn’t help but think, I don’t need you guys anymore. I didn’t need you or Sanghyeok-hyung or Minseok-hyung or…or even Hyeonjun-hyung. I stood there, the victor, while you guys were eliminated. I did what you guys couldn’t do. I was glad you were watching me hold that trophy. I wanted you to point at the screen and say, ‘Damn. How could we lose him? If we had Choi Wooje, if we still had T1 Zeus, we could be there instead, holding that trophy.’”
Wooje’s words made Minhyung’s insides churn uncomfortably. Not because he thought badly of him for feeling that way, but because they made him remember the words he’d almost spoken aloud, back when he snatched that very first victory during Kespa Cup.
I don’t need you anymore.
“Wooje, that’s—”
“And,” the younger says, continuing. “When. At the end of the year. I sat on my couch. I was the one behind the screen, watching you guys lift the World trophy. I was…I was so happy you won, hyung. I really was. But…I really did think…or maybe, I just hoped…”
Wooje finally lifts his head to face Minhyung. His eyes are a little red, but there are no tears. His face looks pale, a little haunted. Most of all, he looks tired.
Minhyung finishes the thought with the one he’d been carrying for weeks. “You wanted your absence to have changed something.”
“I didn’t want you to lose. I really didn’t,” Wooje says hurriedly. “But…fuck, if you lost, I could at least say, “miss me now?” Hyung, do you understand now?”
Minhyung does.
It’s the feeling he got when he watched T1 crush DK and move into playoffs while HLE was defeated completely, left in shambles under the sheer might of GenG.
“Wooje-ah, can I tell you a secret?”
Wooje straightens, then nods.
“I want Minseokie to do well,” he says quietly. “I wished him well. I always want him to do well, and I know he will. But…I wanted to see him struggle. I wanted to not be sure if he’d do well and know that I was the only one that could change that. That I was the one Keria needed.”
-
It’s a horrible idea, but Minhyung rewatches T1’s match against DK. He takes in every game, every individual play. He watches the flow of the game, the overwhelming strength T1 has against DK, and the victory they snatch with ease. He replays the botlane plays over and over again, and his eyes stay glued on Minseok’s champion.
It was a fear he held ever since he made the decision to leave. He buried it well, ignored it so viciously he could pretend he was in control of all his fears as he stepped into the unknown. But it was always there.
If Minhyung was here, facing months of inactivity after being knocked out of the LCK Cup, not even making it to playoffs, the first team in the entire world to get eliminated in their region’s tournament, and Minseok was there, moving forward as strong as he’d always been…
Did I make you great? Minhyung thinks bitterly. Or were you the one to make me great?
-
hey
hi
you played great
thanks
i watched you play too
you did well
you don’t have to say that
i know it was bad
no, really!
i know you did your best
even if i wasn’t there
and your best is always good
are you doubting me?
i’d never
of course, because i’m right
you really did play well
i know you’ll keep on playing well
you’ll bounce back in no time
mhm
if you say so
you should watch out
all your encouraging might backfire when we face each other again
as if
i’ll get even better
this is unfair, minhyungie
where’s my praise
i won my game
haha
minseokie you were amazing
as usual
genius monster indeed
good luck next week
i miss you
that’s what i’m looking for
minseokie is typing…
?
minhyung
yes?
it looks like i’m the one moving ahead now
but i still miss you
i’m still looking for you
watch me
-
-
minseokie
how’ve you been?
well
could be better
you know how it is
i watched your game today
you played well
you’d have played better with me
thanks
not well enough
you should’ve been there
you did your best
i’m proud of you
really
i’m proud of you too
i know you’re working hard over there
and you have wooje with you too
must be fun
not as fun as when i was with you
at least you’ve got sanghyeok and the two hyunjoons
lol
it’s not the same
of course not
we will never have that again
i’m moving on, and you have to, too
right
well
we’re both out, now
yeah, we are
lol
do you
do i?
do you think we’d still be in if
if you never left
if you didn’t leave me
you know
…
definitely
maybe
i’m trying not to think of if’s, these days
no regrets
what if i stayed with you
what if i got to tell you
right
no regrets
minseokie
yeah?
minhyungie is typing…