GOAL! Love or hate on the field?

Minho had always been the kind of person who chased his goals with everything he had. Getting into one of the country's top five universities wasn't just a dream-it was a mission. Years of late-night practices, relentless studying, and playing through injuries had all led to that one moment: the letter bearing his dream school's crest, offering him a full-ride athletic scholarship. It should've been the happiest day of his life. And it was-until preseason started.

That was when he met Christopher, the team captain.
Christopher was everything Minho hated: uptight, unshakably confident, annoyingly perfect, and constantly watching him like he was one screw-up away from being benched. On the surface, Chris was a model leader-respected, disciplined, the kind of guy who spoke and the team listened. But with Minho? There was no patience. No warmth. Just criticism and that unreadable, borderline smug expression like he already had Minho figured out.

The tension between them escalated quickly. Minho wasn't known for his level-headed personality-he was much more associated with anger or stubbornness. And Chris? He had a way of pushing that felt deliberate. A cutting remark during passing drills. A pointed look after a missed shot. Whatever effort Minho put in-early mornings, extra laps, staying late after practice-it never seemed to be enough. Chris never acknowledged the work. Never gave praise. Just silence.
And the more Chris dismissed of minhos efforts the more Minho stopped trying, eventually the missed practices started. The late arrivals. Minho would show up with his jersey half on, earbuds in, no urgency in his step. It was performative, like he wanted Chris to say something-wanted a reaction, even if it was a fight. And Chris would watch him from across the field, jaw tight, fists clenched, biting back whatever he wanted to say.

Each of them waiting for the other to break.