On Thin Ice

Chapter 9- finding new depths

(Y/N) POV:

I'd rather have a bumbling hockey player skate over my bare foot than admit that maybe... just maybe... perhaps... mayhaps... perchance I know Jimin better than I'd like to. That maybe is a consequence, a backfired effect of sleeping with him, of being so close physically at some stolen parts of some stolen days that something is just... off.

Something's off in the way that he just seems to be different to the guy I've been falling into bed with. Which in itself is weird enough to admit that the guy I've been fucking is different to the rough brusque hockey player whose skating leaves jagged wounds in the rink. That has a permanent scowled discontent on his face and weighing down the breadth of his form.

I shouldn't know that. And yet somehow I do.

And I know it because it feels different to the type of energy he channels on the rink, it's not competitive or antsy and needing to burn off energy, it's not riled up and ready to go, skates a moment's notice from shooting across the ice. It's hostile and angry and wound up to a point it'll implode if triggered.

"Watch where you're going!" barely missing when I sidestep him, eyes widened with surprise at the sudden rush of force that'd come bulldozing its way across the ice, that this close and I'd had to sidestep to avoid being skated into the ice itself, a flash of irateness in his eyes and the ugly twist of a sneer, cold and cruel.

"Don't take up space that's needed then."

"I'm sorry what?" incredulous and disbelieving, voice tinged with a sharpness as I whirl around to look at him, watch as he barely turns to even deign to spare me a look, eyes hard flints of ice when I catch sight of them as he turns. A tightness to his posture and expression, the air around him seeming to burn and crackle with sparks of hostility.

"What's got his skates in a twist?"

"Might be a blueballs situation, why... did you turn him down or something?" Kook laughs, voice low in my ear as he skates up beside me, following my line of sight before it flits in a quick, sharp twist to scowl at him.

"One if that's not what it looks like. And second he's being an asshole." grimacing at the thought. Because leaving him turned on then walking away didn't look like that. This was a different something.

"Is he ever not? Besides isn't being like this your thing?"

"My thing?"

"Your thing, his thing." waving his hand generally, gesturing over at me.

"Trying to be infuriating to each other." he elaborates.

"I do not. I'm a model of good sportsmanship. Even with jackasses who chase after a piece of rubber that's a health hazard!"

"You're going to have to let that slip up go (Y/N)."

"Everyone saw Kook!"

"You've fallen on the ice before! That's a given with an ice sport."

"I fell in front of everyone Kook. Those stupid smug bastards and their stupid coach too." it didn't matter to fall in the first place, neither did it matter because he was right. In figure skating we'd amassed more bruises, scrapes and cuts than something we could give an amount to.

But falling in front of them? The heat on my cheeks had been anger and prickly defensiveness at seeing the way it'd elicited a few laughs, had made their Coach's eyes glimmer with mockery.

There's a faint, tiny quirk to his lips, a small twitch before it smoothens over impassively but not before I've already caught sight of it, whacking him again.