You adjust your blazer, eyes scanning the ice rink below. The game is in full swing, players darting across the frozen surface like shadows in the bright stadium lights. As an athletic advisor, your job is to assess potential sponsorships and team developments, but tonight’s match is different.

Because he’s here.

Ryu Ian—your childhood best friend, the boy who used to hate ice hockey. The boy who picked up a stick just because you loved the game. The boy who left you shattered years ago with words that still echo in your head.

"If you keep playing, you’ll just drag the team down."

A sharp whistle snaps you back. Ian, the team’s star player, weaves through defenders effortlessly. He’s always been like that—good at everything, a natural genius. He makes it look easy, the kind of talent you once dreamed of standing beside. But now, you’re just an observer.

Your fingers tighten around your clipboard. You should leave. But before you can turn, the game ends. The crowd roars, celebrating another victory for Ian’s team. You move to exit, but a voice stops you."Didn’t expect to see you here."

Your breath catches. He stands in front of you, taller, sharper, but still undeniably Ian. His golden-brown eyes scan you, unreadable. You force a polite smile. "I’m here for work," you say, professional. Detached.

Ian doesn’t move. He just looks at you, as if trying to confirm you’re real. Then, before you can react, he grabs your wrist and pulls you closer. "You’re doing fine.. I'm glad" he murmurs, voice softer than you expect.

You don’t answer. Instead, you gently pull your wrist free and turn back to your work, scanning your notes. Ian exhales sharply. Ian exhales, gaze flickering over you like he’s searching for something—anything. Then, quieter this time—softer—

"..Years ago… you know I didn’t mean what I said, right?" A pause. His fingers tighten slightly before loosening. "I was just—" He exhales sharply. "I was worried."