FALLING SLOWLY ||Complete||

Lonely Summit

Distinct murmurs swirl the air. Footsteps, smiles, a faint ripple in the pool. As he takes his place, performing a routine of warm ups, his ears take it all in.

Inhale.

The sharp smell of chlorine and the homely familiarity it brings to know the water is so near.

Exhale.

Time ticks, commands are made. Distinct whispers grow more distant, merged into a blur and finally cut off as he wears the goggles.

Inhale.

The reaction to the starting signal comes from some unconscious inbuilt reflex and he breaks the water.

Uncomfortable dry land left behind, homely embrace of water shields him for a moment. A lung full of air burns for its release, muscles tighten and Adrenalin pounds. Like a bullet he shoots into the water with precise and in control movements worth decades of practiced ease. He knows what he is doing and there is no time for second guessing. Each stroke as graceful as a dance, as sharp as an edge of a blade, this is his domain and he pushes through water with determination tight in his jaw.

He shuts his mind to the calculations - goals that had been set for him, the wariness settling into his shoulders and pushes on. The end comes before he is ready for it and he hoists himself out of the water. The resulting splash the first thing he hears as the sounds of land resettles into his world. Time starts to matter again, as he pulls his goggles off.

Has he made it?

The force of surrounding crowd hits him like a wave. Bewildered for a moment he blinks like a fool. There are arms hoisting him off the water, clapping his back, wrapping him in warm towels. There are voices yelling at distance, yelling close by.

"First Gold of the season!"

"OQT," he catches a fragment of passing by conversation.

The confirmation comes in the form of the rest of the team, huddling in with trembling excitement. People who were a little bit more than strangers he realizes with regret, still celebrating his achievement. There comes a younger man, yelling himself hoarse and barreling into him to knock air out of his lungs. The bone breaking embrace lasts only a moment for Baek Ah (that is his name) is beyond himself in celebrating.

"We are going Tokyo!" He announces bouncing on the balls of his feet. "We did it! We made it!"

"Catch your breath," he tries to sound admonishing and ruins the effect by the slow smile curling itself into the crooked line his mouth had arranged into. So runs an impatient hand through his hair and looks away, trying to step on the warmth swelling inside him - the urge to beam wide. It feels like soaring high after sinking deep and he knows the feeling is real. For him it had always been OQT or nothing else - that was how he was taught.

For the third time in a row coach Park knocks his breath, as he clasps a heavy hand on his back. Pride gleams in the eyes of the old man, behind a sheen of shared history.

"Record time!" He informs in his usual gruff. "I would have taken nothing less for a come back!"

"Yes General!" So says with a mock salute and a raised eyebrow just in time as the team crowds into a congratulatory hug. They made gold, he would be going Tokyo - nothing could go wrong again. It was time to go home.

**

There are smile lines around her mouth, in the corners of her eyes. In So's imagination she is smiling at him. A lot of things that happen in his imagination do not belong in his reality. Yoo Myung Sung watches the cold metal before her for a long while, her expression equally stoic. Then she lifts her gaze to look at him a muscle twitching at the corner of her mouth.

And she says nothing.

His heart slips a little further down like a punctured balloon.

"It's gold -" he says awkwardly. "Just like Tae Hyung's. Omoni I'm going for -"

She stands abruptly, dismissing the rest of his words.

"Yes. Yes. Very good." Her words are aloof and empty. But So holds on to them with the greed of a thirsty man. A faint smile plays at his lips as she opens the door and stumbles into her secretary. The young woman pales a little more if possible at the prospect of facing her employer.

"Secretary Han did I forget to mention that I will take no appointments for the evening?" Her even tone is sweet - like poison.

"Attorney Yoo - I'm - forgive me I thought you didn't mean..."

"Well I don't pay you for thinking. I'm going for a dinner with my sons and I wanted to clear my evening. Tell me what can I do now that you've held me up?" She smiles a little for good measure and claps the terrified young woman on the shoulder. "This should not repeat. I was starting to like you! You know I hate replacing people!" Shaking her head at her own disappointment the woman leaves with no parting words for the son she was leaving back at her dimly lit office, a glitter of a medal clutched in his fist.

A long after the sound of her heels had died on the marble, the secretary looks at him apologetically and opens her mouth to offer some words of comfort.

"Forget you've seen that -" he tells her curtly. "Those words weren't meant for you." With that he walks off brushing past her stuffing the medal in his pocket.

**
||Glossary ||

OQT - olympic qualifying time is the time a swimmer has to achieve during an event approved by the FINA to get a place at Olympic trials.