Yeonbin Oneshots

(M) Bruises

3.110 words

Top: Yeonjun
Bottom: Soobin

____________

'BAAM'

The air crackled with intensity as Yeonjun and Soobin squared off on the mat, the room falling silent in anticipation watching the Taekwondo match. Yeonjun's muscles were tense, ready to spring, while Soobin's stance was deceptively relaxed, his gaze cool and steady.

The instructor's sharp command signaled the start, and Yeonjun wasted no time, launching into a series of quick, aggressive kicks aimed at Soobin, breaking through his defense. But Soobin barely budged, his movements was thought out, blocking each attack with practiced ease.

Yeonjun's frustration grew with each unsuccessful strike. "That all you got?" he taunted, breathless but determined, trying to provoke a reaction out of the seemingly impenetrable Soobin.

Soobin's lips twitched slightly, the barest hint of a smile, but he remained silent, his focus unbroken. Instead of responding with words, he stepped forward, countering Yeonjun's next move with a swift, calculated kick that caught Yeonjun off guard. The impact sent Yeonjun stumbling back, struggling to regain his footing.

Undeterred, Yeonjun quickly found his balance again and lunged forward, but Soobin was ready. He deflected Yeonjun's attack effortlessly, and with a sudden, fluid motion, he swept Yeonjun's legs out from under him. Yeonjun hit the mat with a grunt, the wind knocked out of him.

Soobin stood over him, his expression calm, almost indifferent. "Looks like you were the one who didn't have enough," he said quietly, his voice carrying just a hint of amusement.

Yeonjun lay there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, his chest heaving from the exertion. He'd lost, and to the other no less—the quiet, unassuming Soobin who had just handed him a defeat with a calm efficiency that left no room for doubt.

Soobin stepped back, his expression unreadable as he offered Yeonjun a hand. "Good match," he said quietly, his voice steady, betraying none of the intensity he had just displayed.

Yeonjun took the offered hand, pulling himself up with a wince. "Yeah, good match," he echoed, though his pride was a little bruised, along with the rest of him.

Soobin simply nodded, releasing Yeonjun's hand and stepping away without another word. But as he walked off the mat, there was the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips—a fleeting expression that told Yeonjun that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't over yet.

____________

Yeonjun and Soobin got out of Yeonjun's car in the fading evening light, their usual banter filling the quiet parking lot. Yeonjun's hand kept drifting to the sore spot on his side where Soobin's kick had landed, his fingers brushing over the faint bruise as he winced dramatically.

"You really didn't have to kick that hard, you know," Yeonjun whined for what felt like the hundredth time, casting a sidelong glance at Soobin. His tone was more playful than truly complaining, but he knew how to milk the moment.

Soobin, ever the picture of calm, didn't even break stride. "That's how a match goes," he replied evenly, not bothering to look at Yeonjun. "One beats the other."

Yeonjun huffed, deliberately rubbing his side again. "Yeah, but you didn't have to enjoy it so much." He snickered.

Soobin's lips quirked into a faint smirk, but he didn't take the bait. Instead, he remained silent, letting Yeonjun stew in his own theatrics.

They reached their apartment, the door clicking shut behind them as Yeonjun kicked off his shoes with a sigh. "Seriously, Soobin, you could have gone a little easier on me. I'm practically falling apart here," he exaggerated, rubbing his shoulder as he headed towards the living room.