Chapter Text
Wooje was the first one to discover something was up.
That, more than anything, might be the most surprising part. Wooje made the connection. That is not to say that Wooje is unintelligent, because he is - intelligent that is - thank you very much. However, considering the discovery in question pertained to Minseok, it stood to reason that someone else would have noticed the issue much sooner. Someone else being Minhyung, who had a habit of sniffing out Minseok’s insecurities like a dog sniffed out treats. Alternatively, Sanghyeok should have been able to see if anything was wrong, because contrary to what his normally aloof expression might indicate, he was terrifyingly adept at spotting when his teammates were sad or tired or anything really. Sanghyeok was a mother hen like that.
But back to the issue at hand. Wooje’s discovery.
It had been by chance, really. Idly browsing through their past games to get his mind off the finals they’d just lost. And through a series of depressing thoughts, he’d found his way to rewatching the grand finals of the 2022 world championship. A tiny voice in Wooje’s head called him masochistic. (a voice suspiciously similar to his jungler’s) Wooje told the voice to shut up.
On his screen, game five neared its end and it was then, right when Deft’s Caitlyn killed Minseok that Wooje paused. His eyes were locked on the screen. On the champion portrait of his support. Wooje remembers losing, he remembers his tears. He remembers a wordless cry echoing through his headset and Minseok breaking down. Minseok who refused to speak about it afterwards. Minseok who insisted he was fine. Minseok who told them their glory had been reclaimed when they won in 2023.
A furious search and scan of Minseok’s statistics confirmed it.
If it all truly had been reclaimed, then why was it that Minseok had never picked up Karma again after that last game in the world finals?
—
It’s Minhyung who gets tasked with speaking to Minseok.
Naturally, most would say, considering he is basically glued to Minseok’s side both physically, metaphorically and spiritually. However, this is for a multitude of reasons. The primary of which is that his teammates bully him to do so. Minhyung is not very happy about it.
“What if it just hurts him?” he says, Wooje and Hyunjoon lounging on either end of a couch in the T1 tower while Minhyung paces in front of them. Minseok is out with some old teammates and Sanghyeok is nowhere to be seen. “Like maybe it’s all buried and forgotten. He doesn’t need to play Karma.”
“It’s not about Karma, hyung,” Wooje replies, mentally berating himself for not just leaving Sanghyeok to do the convincing. No one respects their juniors. “Clearly things are not buried and forgotten if he hasn’t played her since.”
“What if it’s just a coincidence?”
“Then bringing it up won’t do anything,” Hyunjoon says, burrowing deeper into the couch. His legs are tangled with Wooje’s, the temptation to kick him is hard to resist.
Minhyung’s brow is furrowed. “Why me? Why not Sanghyeok?”
Wooje had thought so too at first. He’d gone to Sanghyeok and asked him what to do, as everyone on the team does concerning everything. Wooje really doesn’t know how Sanghyeok manages. And Sanghyeok had only said this:
“He might take it as criticism coming from Sanghyeok. And he would not want to worry me,” Wooje says. “It’s easier if it comes from one of you two.”
“And besides, you’re the bot duo,” Hyunjoon chimes in. “He’s your support.”
“He’s all of our support. Actually, he’s his own support! Supports matter too.”
Hyunjoon rolls his eyes. Wooje brings out his final argument. “Hyung, it might be a sensitive matter. Do you really want someone like him discussing it?” He gestured to Hyunjoon who promptly kicked him in the shin.
“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?”
No one says the obvious. No one suggests for one of the coaches to talk to Minseok about it. Because while the coaches are family too they can’t quite pierce the circle of the players. And because this isn’t about the game. It’s about Minseok and pain and residue. It’s about scars and what tears them up.
So they will do what they always do. What they always have done. They will build each other back up.
Minhyung nods. “Okay. For Minseok.”
—
Minseok knows who stands on the other side of his door long before he opens it, mostly because Minhyung really is the only one who he ever needs to open the door for.
Wooje never bothers to announce his presence, he instead prefers the age-old method of barging in no matter the time of day and throwing himself head first onto Minseok’s bed - oftentimes complaining about a certain jungler. Hyunjoon, to his credit, is not quite as brash. He knocks, and then heads in without waiting for an answer. Truly, the topside of the map has no sense for personal space. (Minseok doesn’t either, not that he’d ever admit it out loud.) Sanghyeok always announces his arrival in the form of a text message, like an old man, which gives Minseok ample time to hide his dirty laundry and hurriedly make his bed before leaving the door open for his hyung.
And then there is Minhyung.
He always knocks, and then he waits. Most of the time, Minseok simply calls for him to enter, but sometimes - like today - he lets his ADC in manually. Because something about the way Minhyung never fails to light up when their eyes meet makes warmth gather in his chest. A glow he can’t quite name. He smiles back and steps aside to let Minhyung enter.
But something is wrong. Because while Minhyung does enter, he stops in the middle of the room. He turns and while his smile still remains, Minseok can see the strains in it. The worried lines along his brow.
Minhyung opens his mouth as if to speak, before stopping. He tries again, dragging a hand through his hair. “We– I have a question.”
Minseok blinks. “Go ahead.”
“Why don’t you play Karma?” The words fall out of him like a waterfall over a cliff, and Minseok’s brow furrow. Whatever he’d expected it was not that.
“In the current meta Karma is better in mid, there are a multitude of enchanters better suited to support than her.”
Minhyung shook his head before the sentence was over. “We are the bot meta.”
Something started to creep into the air, making it harder for Minseok to breathe. He closed his door and turned to face Minhyung fully. “Maybe I just don’t want to.”
Minhyung’s face softens. “When was the last time you played Karma?”
And Minseok knows. He knows he’s been seen through. Just as he’s always known that it was only a matter of time. They were always going to figure it out eventually.
“I can’t.” His voice breaks. Admitting it feels like a defeat, but this is Minhyung. Who can he trust if not his ADC?
“Minseokie.” There was something like guilt in his voice, laden with a heavy sort of sadness that brought the mind to rain on a playground. Because they were a team. They were the bot duo. They told each other these things. “We won. You told us it was reclaimed. That all the pain was worth it.”
“Worth it doesn’t mean gone, Minhyungie.” All at once Minseok crosses the space between them and his hands snake around Minhyung’s wrists, nails dig into skin. It doesn’t draw blood. It will leave a mark nonetheless. “It was supposed to be ours. It could have been ours. And I lost it.”
Minhyung softly loosens the hands clasped around his wrists and holds them. They’re cold, like glass in winter. Minhyung sometimes forgets that they’re fragile like that too. It’s so easy when Minseok’s eyes look like steel.
“It’s all of our loss, Minseokie,” he says. His voice is kind and his eyes are piercing. It’s so Minhyung. Minseok can’t look away. “We lost together, just like we won together.”
Minseok swallows hard. “Every time I’ve tried to play her since… I just get pulled back there. And I can’t breathe.”
He lets himself get pulled down to the floor. It’s cold this time of the year, but when Minhyung’s arms come around him he finds that he doesn’t mind. They lean against each other, the way they always have. Minseok hopes they always will.
Winning, Minseok has come to realize, is easy. Almost too easy, enough so that it would bother him if he examined it too closely. Winning is rising from the earth and drifting on clouds, getting carried away to a different plane of existence altogether. It’s bright and loud and above all, it’s quick. Memories flow together in a beautiful, blurred mess and the edges of reality are suddenly not as defined. Time flies and like a breeze on a summer's day it passes, leaving you stranded in the heat of it all.
Losing is not any of that. Time does not fly when losing. Time barely moves at all. You have to rise, you have to get up and push it forward like Sisyphus until you finally find your footing once more. Each detail, each fault, each and every sound and tear and crack in your heart is etched into your memory, carved in obsidian. You will remember your mistakes and you will watch yourself make them again and again in your nightmares.
Minseok remembers.
He remembers a game. A rifle. He remembers his gray screen and the sound of the crowd. He remembers his runes, choosing each and every one of them with more care than ever because that was the moment. That was supposed to be it.
He remembers Karma. He remembers not being enough.
And the memories cling to him like the residue of a poison. It aches, retreats into his pores and slumbers until something triggers it once more. Then it comes out in full force and he’s back there, in the hall of his memories. On the stage. In front of the world, but more importantly in front of his team. The old one and the new. Somehow he managed to fail them both. He won’t give himself the opportunity to fail them again.
He doesn’t notice the tears until Minhyung wipes it away with his thumb. He holds Minseok like he’s something precious. Soft hands against tear stained cheeks. There is a secret somewhere in that. Surrounding them. Pain longs to be shared and they share plenty.
“How do you do it?” Minseok asks. “How do you not remember every time you lock in Varus? Every time you steal an objective?”
“I’m not there anymore. It made me want to do better and I did. I lost with it back then, and I won with it in 2023.” Minhyung shrugs. “I think we’re affected in different ways.”
“Does that make me weak?” It’s barely even a whisper, but Minhyung catches it all the same.
“No, Minseokie.” He gently tilts Minseok’s head backwards until their eyes meet. “Don’t ever think that. You are the strongest person I know.”
Minseok lets out a watery snort. “Hyunjoonie would be offended if he heard that.”
“Skill issue on his part.” Minhyung is silent for a bit, shifting his weight slightly so Minseok can curl up against his side again. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier.”
Minseok thwacks him on the shoulder. “Idiot. Don’t apologize.”
“I just don’t want you to be alone,” he tries again.
“We’re the bot duo, I’m never alone.” Minseok hesitates. “Maybe… Maybe we can duo tomorrow. You could play Varus. And I could try.”
“You don’t have to, Minseokie.” Minhyung squeezes him once. “That’s not why I asked about it, we’re just worried about you.”
Minseok’s mind quickly filed away every adorable sentiment of this to review later and skipped to the important part of this statement. “We?”
“Uh.” He could practically see Minhyung’s ears turn red, and he would have looked up to confirm it if he wasn’t so very comfortably positioned with his head tucked in under the other’s neck. It wasn’t much of a bother anyway, Minseok was absolutely sure that a rapid blush was taking over Minhyung’s face. It was practically written in the tone of his voice. “Wooje… Kind of brought it up. And… yeah.”
Minseok froze. “Does Sanghyeok hyung know?”
“Yes, but-”
He was interrupted by the muffled sound of Minseok drowning a wail against his chest. Minhyung smiled, probably in a stupid, fond way that Hyunjoon and Wooje would have spent hours teasing him about, had they seen it.
“Minseokie,” he said, pulling softly at his shoulder. “He’s nothing but concerned.”
“What if he’s disappointed in me,” Minseok said with marginal success, considering he was speaking directly into Minhyung’s shirt.
“Please, if anything, Sanghyeok hyung would be disappointed with Wooje’s average deaths per game. Have you ever seen him do anything beyond looking amused about it?”
Minseok made a noise that indicated exactly how much he thought that wasn’t the same.
“He literally doesn’t have the capability to be disappointed in any of us,” Minhyung says. “He’s gone soft.”
Minseok snorted out a laugh. “Say that to his face, I dare you.”
Minhyung would rather jump off a building, but then again, this was Minseok asking. “Maybe I will. But only if you promise to cry at my funeral.”
“I would protect you. That’s my job.”
Minhyung eyed Minseok’s stature then nodded seriously. “Even from Sanghyeok hyung?”
“Even from him.”
Minhyung almost started to cry on the spot. It was a very near thing. “Oh.”
Minseok sat up properly, a small smile adorning his face. “I’ll try again. Karma. I promise I will. For you.”
Minhyung did actually get teary eyed at that. Because Minseok promised. And Minseok would try, if not for himself then for Minhyung. Really what more could either of them want?
“I’ll be by your side,” he says.
“You always are.”