"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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SPRING, 2010
ON A SATURDAY AFTERNOON, when the sun was at it's peak and the air smelt like cherry blossoms, Aria witnessed her first athletic competition. Albeit a small neighbourhood game with average players, it ended up teaching her more than she initially thought it would.
The match itself was between two middle school volleyball teams. She cheered for the reds, the school she would attend the next approaching year. But the blue team was a tenacious one too, despite slowly losing both sets. Especially that number seven kid.
The countless outs and flukes didn't seem to be taking the mental toll on him that had taken over the rest of his peers as he carried on shouting encouragements left and right. Aria thought that the boy would finally lose his patience. Their excuse of a libero missed a ball that could have easily been caught, yet he managed to surprise her.
"Don't sweat it, we can get the next one!" he screamed whilst clapping, a merry dimpled grin on his face.
He was undeniably talented as much as he was passionate. Number seven was the tallest player in the court, with insane blocking skills that weren't just due to his long arms but also his hawk-like eyes that followed the ball as a predator would do to its prey. A great setter with even greater potential to become an ace.
But he needed guidance and experience.
And perhaps that's why when the whistle was blown, the anti-climactic game had ended with a 2-0 for the red team. Aria should have felt happy, her school had won!
Yet, her and a majority of the audience couldn't stop feeling sorry for the boys of the blue team. They fell to their knees and the polished ground of the courts welcomed their tears.
Everyone expected number seven to cry and sob the loudest. After all, he had tried too hard to win a losing game. Instead, he walked forward to the net separating the court with a decisive glint in his eyes.
"Well played, but we will beat you next time." He said confidently, "And when we do, you'll remember me as Kim Namjoon of the winning team, not the incapable setter."
When he walked away, with an aura of mocking poise and certainty surrounding him, everyone was left speechless. And his words would have fooled anyone to believe that losing didn't bother him nor bruise his ego, although he had put everything on the line for that one match as all athletes do.
Aria would have been fooled too. If it wasn't for those tears escaping number seven's eyes all those years ago as he quietly whimpered behind the unused vending machine, Aria would have never known. She would have never found out that loss can either shape or break us and the choice is ours to make.
