"The whole campus knows. Figure skater Aria, a wonderful prodigy. Better than other skaters her age. Broke countless international records. Made it to nationals at just twenty-one. Yet she dropped out during the semi-finals, finally faced with skat...
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WINTER, 2008
THE FIRST time Aria skated was still a remarkable moment etched in her memories. Unlike the other kids, laughing and unafraid of falling, she was much more timorous. With unsteady legs, she walked – rather than gliding like one normally would – on the tip of her skates, tightly holding onto the rails at the edge of the ice rink.
She was slow. Tremendously slow.
Irritated, one of the kids holding the fences like her, pushed her down. Aria slipped and fell. No one came to help her, not even her mother watching from afar with disappointed disdain. After countless tries, she finally raised though. Aria got on her hands and knees, placing one foot between her hands and pushed herself up. When she stood on her wobbly legs again, she realised that she wasn't all that scared anymore.
Falling and standing again. She liked that.
Thus, she kept her legs as stable as possible, trying to get used to the friction of ice. And though she had fallen countless of times afterwards, and each time hurt more than the previous, she didn't mind so long as she could stand again.
⊱ ────── ⋆❉⋆ ────── ⊰
AUTUMN, 2021
I ran past the figure skating centre, puffing. The cold, early November air pierced my skin like tiny needles. Though it was still autumn, it felt like winter was approaching faster and faster with each passing day. The coat hanging on my shoulders did little to nothing in protecting me from the harsh season.
Eventually, I saw the entrance of the gymnasium building shared by the basketball and volleyball team. Grinning, I sprang through the stairs and was rewarded by the warmth of the radiators.
Though the air inside was stale and reeked of sweat mixed with cheap deodorant, it was a good refuge from the outer blood-freezing cold. The corridors were empty, but the distant sound of yells and the clattering of balls hitting the ground followed by grunts and grumbles, signalled the presence of a team still practicing despite the late hours of the evening.
I assumed it was Yoongi's basketball team, as he had called me earlier that day and required my presence; but I was proven wrong by the sight of a net separating courts into two. I texted my best friend of my arrival, then climbed onto the bleachers to observe the ongoing match without disrupting the session.
Though I wanted to say I was an expert at volleyball, that would have been an utter lie. I wasn't a fanatic of the sport, but I was a huge, devoted Kim Namjoon enthusiast.
With his long legs, smart mouth and broad shoulders, it would have been harder to find someone who didn't feel similarly. I could have watched the man for hours without even blinking. Today, he looked more attractive than usual. In his training shorts and fitted black t-shirt, it was a challenge to try and look away. The beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead dripped down his face, but he was too focused on the ball to wipe them off.
