At Seoul High, Hwang Hyunjin is the calm, untouchable captain of the soccer team—graceful on the field, chill in class, and admired by everyone. His leadership is unmatched… except when it comes to controlling Kim Seungmin.

Seungmin, a year younger and a forward on the team, is a walking contradiction—bubbly, reckless, and explosive. He has a fan following as big as Hyunjin’s, but his reputation for provoking fights makes him both admired and despised. No one knows the real reason behind his antics—especially not Hyunjin.

Because every time Hyunjin scolds him, grabs his shirt, or locks eyes with him in frustration… Seungmin feels his heart skip.

But things boil over after another chaotic game ends in a scuffle. In the locker room, alone with a fuming Hyunjin, Seungmin’s walls come down—and so might Hyunjin’s.

⸻

The final whistle blew. The scoreboard glared: Seoul High 3 - 2 Sanggye Tech. Cheers echoed through the field, students leaping from the stands, chanting and clapping.

And then—

“HEY, WATCH YOUR MOUTH!” Seungmin’s voice cut through the celebration like a blade. He was already chest-to-chest with an opposing midfielder, smirking with that infamous glint in his eye.

“Seungmin…” Hyunjin muttered from midfield, already dragging a hand down his face.

The Sanggye player lunged—but Seungmin was faster. He twisted with a grin, letting the other boy stumble straight into the aluminum bleachers with a loud CLANG.

Gasps. Whispers. Laughter. The fight never landed, but the damage to their image? Undeniable.

⸻

The locker room was damp with sweat and the sharp scent of liniment. Jerseys hung half-off, cleats kicked lazily across the tiled floor. Most of the team had filtered out, the noise dying down with each slamming door.

Only two remained.

Hyunjin stood still, arms crossed, lips pressed in a tight line. Seungmin leaned back on the bench, shirt sticking to his skin, a water bottle half-finished in his hand.

“So?” Seungmin teased, kicking his cleats off lazily. “No ‘good game’ from our captain?”

Hyunjin didn’t speak.

He moved.

One stride. Two. Then Seungmin was yanked up by the collar of his jersey, back hitting the cool locker.

“Why do you always have to pull stunts like that at the end of every single game, Kim Seungmin?”

Hyunjin’s voice was low, firm. His fingers gripped the fabric tight. Their faces were inches apart.

Seungmin’s breath caught. Not from fear.

But from the way Hyunjin’s eyes blazed when he was angry. From the warmth of his hand so close. From the proximity. The scent. The dominance.

“Maybe I just like the attention,” Seungmin muttered, barely hiding his smirk.

Hyunjin didn’t back down. His jaw clenched. “You could get suspended. Or worse.”

Seungmin’s gaze flicked down—to Hyunjin’s lips—and back up again. He licked his own instinctively.

“Maybe I like when you yell at me,” he said.

Hyunjin froze.

Seconds stretched. The air between them cracked like static. His grip didn’t loosen, but his fingers trembled—just once.

Seungmin’s smile softened. “You’re hot when you’re pissed off, captain.”

Hyunjin let go suddenly, stepping back like he’d touched fire.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, voice quieter now.

“Yeah,” Seungmin whispered, still watching him. “But only for you.”

The locker room door creaked open in the distance. A voice called, “Yo! You guys done in there?”