enhypen imagines.

loser (affectionately)

☼ park sunghoon x reader; pure fluff, established relationship au.

sometimes, the definition of love is really just laughing over your soulmate nearly falling on their face and challenging them to a racing competition in a public ice rink (where everyone is prone to accidents).

notes: this is what happens when you indulge too much in what was supposed to be a quick bullet scenario kept on returning to it until it became a full-fledged drabble :D this is sunghoon's part in the "ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad" req i wrote! hope y'all enjoy </3

wordcount: 1.1k

Being with Park Sunghoon feels like getting whisked into the streets of a city brimming with life and light; like witnessing the first breath of winter unfurl upon the shimmering rooftops of your hometown; the sweet rush of euphoria as the wind breaks through your hair on impulsive afternoon drives, skyline in view—it's been two summers, but he still takes your breath away like the first time you met on that lonely spring day.

You cannot describe half of the magic he invokes in your chest when you meet his eyes, when he intertwines his hands with yours as he walks with you along the streets populated with fragrant honeysuckles into the quaint café tucked behind the old bookstore downtown, when you see his eyes turn into crescent moons in a solemn spot beside the Han River, or any moment you share with him in these spontaneous little meet-ups when time finally decides to spare a little mercy to one more pair of starcrossed lovers. Even if you try, there is nothing more impossible than describing all the things Sunghoon makes you feel.

That and you think he's an absolute monster for laughing at you as you try to avoid your near-death, you hurl your glove at his face, holding onto the rare space near the railings in your town's public rink, and Sunghoon's laughter ceases as your glove hits him square in the face.

"Deserved," you state, gaining enough balance to push away from the barrier, you deliver a gentle slap to his shoulder with a half-hearted glare. "Boyfriends are supposed to help you out when you nearly get run over by a group of prepubescent kids, not laugh at your demise."

"I just thought that your vision wasn't as bad as I thought it was," he reasons with a smug smile, putting your glove back on, but his hand doesn't leave yours. "Plus, weren't you an athlete before?"

"I haven't been on the ice since the ninth grade, genius," you huff, "it won't come rushing back to me after a minute of skating around."

Gently, Sunghoon pulls you closer, and you will never get used to seeing his eyes in close proximity, how they sparkle softly beneath the blinding luminance of a thousand dangling lights, yet you think it isn't the lights that's making him brighter. Your breath hitches, and he breaks into a smile. "But you're okay now, right?"

"Y-Yeah. Why? What's up?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to make sure," he shrugs, and you try to assess his nonchalance, but he is skillful in calibrating his façade so you drop your efforts, and as snow graces the world in gentle whirls, joy paints his ribs golden and his heart plays a rapid boomboomboom because he's seeing his two greatest loves together and warmth settles between his ribs and says, I am home.

—————

Ten minutes have never felt this short before.

Quietly, you marvel over the unbridled excitement that glazes Sunghoon's eyes, that pools in his palms and taints his cheeks in a lovely glow. His steps are a ghost of all the programs he's inscribed into his bones, he flashes you a grin after he performs a spin, and you're about to commend him when a kid whizzes past you at Sonic-level speed, hysterical with laughter. Thus begins the formation of an idea.

"...woah," Sunghoon breathes out as returns beside you, but both of your eyes still follow the kid, "I hope they don't slip—or accidentally run over someone's hand."

"Yeah... that'd be disastrous," there's a clip of anticipation in your tone, and Sunghoon shares an expectant look with you. Silence. But then you ask:

"Wanna race me?"

He starts bolting along the sides of the rink without warning, the implication of a competition enough to propel him forward without any remorse; with an outraged cry, you follow suit.

(In hindsight, maybe going against a former speed skater is a bad idea but Sunghoon would rather lick the pavement than let you—his universe, the love of his life—think that he was giving up easily.)

You catch up to him quickly, the cold wind biting your cheeks raw, but hearing Sunghoon's laugh feels like liquid electricity in your veins. "You know you're going to lose so hard, right?"

"As if I'd ever let that happen," he huffs, nimbly dodging a wobbly couple, and you chuckle softly.

"It's cute how you think you can beat me."

Your words add more coal to the fire, but part of Sunghoon is surreptitiously delighted that you think he's cute. "Ooh, you just wanna kiss me so bad, don't you?"

After two minutes you end up beating him anyway, and you come up to him with a grin that makes him think he can hold the world in his bare hands (are you even aware of the things you do to him? And even if you did, would you still have been this cruel?).

"I told you so," you grin, hands fixing your scarf; Sunghoon sees the little chips and scars littering your skin, and he realizes that he's grown to love everything about you all the same—he adores all of you. and he hates that he does. He hates how he loves you so much (he doesn't).

"Yeah, yeah. You don't have to rub it in my face."

You laugh at him softly, reaching out to brush his hair out of his eyes. his panting has transmuted into quiet breaths, and he is just as captivating as the first time you saw him—you let your hands fall to his waist, fingers dancing along to a vague holiday tune playing over bass-boosted speakers. Sunghoon traces your jaw, and he retracts his hand because his touch might make you colder, but your own one shoots up to keep his in place, wanting to keep him closer.

"You were right," you whisper, half-defeated, half-elated by this revelation: "I do wanna kiss you. So, so bad."

There it is again: that stupid, toothy grin of his. You didn't ever think you would ever learn to love someone like this, but boy, you've fallen hard.

(Little do you know that Sunghoon has, too.)

He presses his lips against yours, softly, tentatively, and though maybe the world is just a speck of light in a macrocosm of galaxies, you are worth more than that.

You are worth everything.

When you pull away, Sunghoon laughs incredulously at your expression. "What's with the face? I thought you won?"

"Yeah, I did, but I'm also a loser in a way," you frown, glaring half-heartedly at your soulmate.

"How so?"

"It's you, idiot. I'm a loser for you," a sigh leaves your mouth, and Sunghoon giggles; he places your foreheads together, and there is nothing more beautiful than him.

"That's alright, you and I can be losers together."