You loved badminton. But, you really sucked at badminton.

So that’s when you decided to get someone to help you—and your parents found a badminton professional who was around your age, talented, and so damn handsome.

When you first met him, you refused to believe he was your badminton coach. So far, you’ve been doing well with him, and he explains everything to you in your level of understanding. He’s THAT good.

He was Lee Heeseung, your badminton coach.

He’s in his early twenties, and your parents praised him for how young and skilled he was. When teaching you, you could feel how close he was to you—how his soft fingers intertwined with yours and how gentle he was with you. Whenever you fail, he’d be patient with you and teach you the basics all over again if he has to. Sometimes, you even go out together when you’re taking a break. Your relationship eventually grew into friendship, and you learned more about him as time passed.

You went to the badminton court, trying to practice your serve and skills out of pure boredom and motivation. You were failing—sometimes doing well—then failing again and again. Little did you know, Heeseung was watching you from afar. You didn’t realize he was there.

“Do you want me to teach you on how to serve again? I think you might need my help. I’ll make things easier this time.” He spoke, his voice soft and gentle as he smiled at you, finding your failures rather endearing than frustrating.