"You dog, I heard you sneaked in a pretty little flower!"
"It's the first time I've seen you even interacting with a girl. Whoa, I'm so proud."
"Right? You didn't even join us back in Thailand when we were free to get laid with all the gorgeous hostesses, either."
"But that's the real question, isn't it? Is this your first, Jae-il? Or are there even more behind-the-scenes type of conquests the likes of us don't know about?"
The jeers and comments coming from my newly made comrades-in-arms felt, in that particular moment, more distracting than they had any right to be. Perhaps this was a natural reaction to the crazy events transpiring in my daily life as of late. It did take the distraction well off my head. The cafeteria was abuzz with youthful chit-chat and laughter. And as usual, I was not feeling so conversational.
First of all, as usual, you couldn't expect a man to hold his tongue when it came to matters concerning women. A lad might keep a state secret buried in his chest for decades, might carry the weight of unpaid debts and broken promises to the grave, but mention the faintest whiff of feminine intrigue and suddenly the tongues wag like church bells.
Surely, one of the security guards must've tattled—at least we sneaked out right during shift change, so the likelihood of any of them spotting me transporting a crumpled, virgin-stained ball of sheets towards the laundry was minimal. Though, in hindsight, it was incredibly risky. It wouldn't take a genius to inevitably do the math.
"Why so quiet? You're not gonna say anything, man? Or is there something you can't exactly say in public that I'll have to get out of you later?"
I regarded them all with a flat, stoic expression. "You got it all wrong. We didn't do anything." The sullied sheets would likely beg to differ, but I digress. "It was just my older sister who dropped by to check up on me."
"Right. An older sister." Jong-su chuckled, air quoting. Mirth twinkled in his eyes. "My sister never drops by at this hour of the morning."
"Maybe her schedule doesn't allow it." Another jokingly replied, raising his eyebrow at his friend, grinning.
"Or maybe you're not handsome enough to catch any older sister's eye."
"Right, right. I mean, even I would drop at that hour of the morning to see a face this gorgeous."
They all had the most hilarious expressions. Possibly exaggerated. Intentionally so, but still, you had to give points for dedication. As we chatted, other athletes—all of them currently residing here like we were—passed by us. As far as I've heard, and seen, many of them were Olympic level athletes, all part of the country's team.
With all this athletic talent around us, a measly U-17 team, paled in comparison.
I tuned Jong-su and Sung-tae's comments out and resumed devouring my chicken leg, completely unfazed by the topic, knowing full well there wasn't really an ounce of malevolence to their playful prodding and commentary. Still, the fact that word already got around so fast was... alarming.
My sister's scent was still faintly lingering in my nose. On the tip of my tongue. Inside my lungs. Like she'd been embedded in my DNA itself and couldn't be scraped off easily. And on top of that, I caught snippets of her lingering, tantalizing scent on my clothes. If I shut my eyes, focused real hard, my nose tingling, I could even imagine the lingering phantom traces of her shape on the back of my hands.
She was still inside me. Everywhere. She'd taken a bite and lodged herself in me, never to leave.
"Jae-il, my man, what's wrong?"
I turned towards Jong-su, who was looking at me with a highly curious and incredulous expression. In fact, he wasn't the only one.
"What's wrong?"
I frowned.
"Well..." He blinked, chuckling. "Your face is red..."
"......"
Fuck.
"It's..." I grunted, rubbing the back of my head and scratching it. "....stifling hot in here."
"Really? Man, I think it's actually kind of cool and comfy inside. But that could be 'cuz my immune system's rock-solid."
"No, I'm serious. Maybe the AC system is acting up. I gotta take my break, and have a breather outside." I waved my hand, dismissively, and stood up. I was already full anyway. "See you all in the field."
I quickly spun on my heels and walked to the back door, intending to head straight towards the open grounds. I walked past older athletes, some briefly stopped talking to stare at me. I accelerated, fully intending on not having eyes leech into the back of my skull.
My phone vibrated.
Never have I been so eager to read a text. The words barely registered. It was from Mia Noona. Of course, it had to be her. In my head there was only her, and as such, the universe conspired and aligned to put the message on the forefront, just to serve as an affirmation to my single-mindedness.
I swiped the screen open, and tapped on the notification.
She was still typing.
Mia: Pssttt!
Mia: Jae-il, can't sleep.
Mia: Can't even close my eyes without seeing you.
I quickened my pace. I felt eyes on me. Stares following me.
Mia: Did you sleep more? Did you eat? Are you properly hydrating and stretching and warming that beautiful body of yours before practice?
Mia: Do I have to come, again, and personally watch over you? I will! I absolutely will!
The floodgate had broken loose. She had certainly become more talkative and unhinged now that the deed was done. Now that I opened that damn door I told myself I should've never opened.
Here we are.
Mia: You brat, answer me 😤😤
I grinned. There was an incredibly dumb smile on my face as I answered.
You: Stop sending so many messages, Noona. For fuck's sake.
It didn't even last half a second after I sent the reply before she shot me a response.
Mia: Heeeh 👉👈
Mia: Don't want to. 😉
Mia: I'm gonna annoy the fuck out of you, you bastard hehe
Her rapid, bubbly responses had my face tingling. What a pleasant, odd sensation. I had to forcefully control my face muscles because I didn't like the idea of people seeing me smiling like an idiot while staring at my phone.
And when the realization settled in that it would probably stay like this forever, with her, this warmth blossoming, expanding in the pit of my guts, like something had just come undone and settled peacefully, gently... it made my day.
I was getting kind of anxious how much she had come to have this deep an impact on me. I've never been this gutted over liking someone. Imagine always getting lost in your head, thinking about that pretty face, that one woman who monopolized all the blood-flow and had your synapses constantly firing in your brain like a runaway engine.
Only to realize, a moment later, that she's your sister and the main subject and sole thought driving that brainwash, obsessive attraction is nothing but forbidden incestual desire.
So, yeah, basically, I'm screwed.
Or so I would've wanted to tell myself.
I could've found other things to rant about, like how truly risky this situation we got ourselves involved in could actually turn. But I was growing more and more uncaring, or, perhaps, more and more insane, because the prospect of stopping wasn't an option.
I didn't want it to stop, even knowing how logical and smart that'd be.
Because, as sick as it may sound, being with Mia was the most... complete, I've felt, in two lives.
So much for cold logic and a brilliant mind.
Come on, throw stones at me.
Mia: Here, just so you don't forget this Noona when you're busy practicing.
The message was followed by a photo. I clicked on it. Damn, she's hot.
xXx
My nightly rendezvous with Mia that day turned out to be a one-time thing, after all. Certainly not for a lack of wanting on our part—what, with us feeling the sparks and the heat and chemistry between us like that, and with her insistent texts, and my 'Come over if you want me to stop annoying you' text replies—it was a war of attrition we waged all by ourselves.
I was horny. She was horny.
Problem was that I couldn't simply halt my routine to go back home. And she couldn't simply come again either. I experienced first hand the rumor mill, and once it started, one little mistake was all it'd take to have the entire structure collapse.
I had the World Cup to win. And, besides that, if one were to apply some good ole logical sense and cold reasoning, then the likelihood of the both of us getting away with this again, after having been so careless, was low. Not worth the risk.
As much as my hormones liked to believe otherwise.
Beyond that, time blurred into a monotone sequence of training, physical conditioning, the occasional text to Su Ah, the rare calls to Eun Ha and Yeong Gu.
And, lastly, my daily ritual of exchanging texts and pictures with Mia.
God forbid someone caught wind of our chat history. You see, Mia wasn't one to hold back with pictures, or with video calls. Calls that she frequently initiated while changing, or right after stepping out of the shower.
It was maddening.
She was maddening.
And the whole damn thing wasn't even a proper relationship, in the real sense of the word. More like a... mutual, obsessive, insatiable, compulsion. A weirdly symbiotic sort of deal.
But even with the mental whiplash she gave me every single day, she knew when to not cross the line.
She knew my priorities.
And the World Cup remained the one, unmovable goal, my Mt. Everest, my redemption. And the obsession that consumed my second life.
And Mia Noona... was my sweet little reward for working so hard.
...
And, just like that, the training camp slowly drew to a close.
Through all of this, I've seen many of my teammates leave with bitter, wistful expressions. Those who didn't make it. Who came here, dreaming and aiming to join the others. To represent their nation. To participate in one of the most significant worldwide competitions for sports and youth. To go down in history as one of the names and faces from their generation—they were all leaving everything behind, in the hands of those who stayed.
A boy said to himself, once, in the throes of youth, he'll never forget the smell of the freshly mown grass and of sweat and blood, of hard work, of determination.
Of sheer effort.
However, like with all things, one eventually realizes the limitations of this world, the minuteness of one's being, compared to all things. It was inevitable, unavoidable, yet perhaps what struck hardest was the unexpected disappointment that, for most people, would grow less and less surprising as life went by.
Those who are here and staying behind, at least, got their chance. The rest? Perhaps they will get their own, in another time.
I stood. Watching them all say their goodbyes. Offering farewells. They clapped each other's backs, bumped their knuckles, shook their hands. Some hugged. Then those people dispersed.
Few hung back, eyeing the ground, feeling the burning envy, the regret, the disappointment. One wiped the tears that flowed freely.
This is where our paths diverged.
It was disheartening, but it also spurred us forwards.
To reach the next hurdle, we had to put this one behind us. And while they all set foot in their cars or buses, traveling through roads and highways, staring listlessly into space or into the fields outside their windows, I, and everyone here with me, were far from finished.
The qualifiers for the U-17 World Cup had just begun.