78 — Group Stage – South Korea vs Iraq II (Conclusion)

Mia's POV:

Mia watched him as his teammates mobbed him. He raised a hand in acknowledgment, a small, satisfied smile on his face. He looked over towards the VIP box again, their eyes meeting for a fleeting moment. That one, brief look, was just for her. She knew it was for her. That tiny, knowing curve of his lips.

Her heart started tap dancing. Heat pooled low in her belly. The cheering of the crowd, the excitement of the goal, all of it tunneled away, replaced by the memory of him, battering away at her back until she was a drooling mess beneath him.

A burst of emotion spread through her.

"Amazing." Mia breathed, leaning heavily against the guard rail.

Su Ah slowly joined her, leaning in. However, instead of looking down at the game, Mia felt her younger sister's insistent gaze on the side of her face.

"......"

Bothered by it, Mia turned to meet Su Ah's inquisitive eyes. "What?"

Su Ah—lost in her headspace for a moment—frowned and opened her mouth to speak, then thought twice about it, closed her eyes and shook her head. "Nothing, you seem happier, as of late. I'm glad."

That comment had Mia narrow her eyes. "You little brat, what do you mean, happier? Are you saying your older sister is always in a bad mood?"

"Exactly?" Su Ah's retort was quick. Too quick. "Though lately you have seemed more... you know... blushing, smiling, giggly. As if something good happened." A shrug. "Just pointing it out."

"Gosh!" Mia paled, gagging. "Have I really been acting like a lovestruck schoolgirl that badly?" Ew.

Su Ah didn't miss the chance to rub some salt in the wounds. Bitch. "At least you were smiling and looked alive again. What the fuck have you been doing all those late nights to get so perky and flushed?"

Mia sucked in a breath and went red as a cooked lobster. "Nothing."

"Hmm." Su Ah rolled her eyes, then focused back on the game.

Her interest shifted, at long last, and that made the older, now mortified, Mia sigh with relief, straightening out, chuckling.

Mia really had to learn to be a little bit more reserved, right? Her face was showing far too many expressions, now that she realized she should not be emoting in public spaces, nor to others.

Still, was that because she was acting in a very natural, instinctive manner? Was she, in fact, incapable of masking her feelings anymore?

It felt as if Jae-il took something crucial from her that, without being really conscious of it, he then gave it back to her tenfold. That bastard.

Well, fuck it. Let's blame it on him.

Mia huffed, just as the crimson-clad fans behind her erupted with a roar that rippled through her ears. She blinked in surprise, immediately looking down at the South Korean players huddling and celebrating the second goal near the corner flag.

Her eyes immediately found Jae-il in the center of the joyful commotion. He wasn't the goalscorer, but certainly was a crucial part of it.

The game restarted in much better spirits for the home team. Two-nil after nearly thirty minutes, a safe lead. South Korea was firmly in command, though Jae-il had always told her how these things tended to swing in a flash. How the games could change completely after just one careless or ill-timed mistake.

Two-nil soon turned into three-nil.

​Three-nil into four-nil.

Jae-il had chipped it in after the ball rebounded off the keeper's gloves.

Behind her, a heavy hand landed on Mia's shoulder and she nearly had a mini heart-attack.

"Jeez, dad!" Mia turned around, her palm right over her heart, just to come face-to-face with the round man.

"Sit down, sweetheart. You'll risk falling down if you lean out that far." The big guy patted her on the head, playfully.

"Then how will I cheer my baby brother and his team on?" Mia gave him her best closed-eyed, snooty-ish grin, and waved off her father's hand, turning back to the game. She enjoyed the power trip of being able to say something as blunt as 'baby brother', despite having done the dirty, the incestuous deed.

"Hahahaha! How will we?" Yeong Gu quipped.

Mia's eyes zeroed in on the Number 9.

There it was, her brilliant, wonderful, insane, ridiculous, little brother.

The center of attention, the apex, the pride. He was the pinnacle. It was so easy, now, to associate him with the team's success, at times forgetting the monumental contribution he provided to this life of hers, her world.

Mia's stomach sank with every new realization and acknowledgment of just how far she'd fallen into this quicksand of doom, wrapped in such a pretty little bow, dripping with sweetness.

Could the walls that separated fantasy and reality become so paper-thin?

It was such a sombre, lowkey thought, and yet, the shiver that crawled down her spine and slithered into the small of her back did not match the heat rushing to her cheeks and burning deep within her stomach, to the point she briefly feared someone could tell, or anyone might just magically peer past her skin, past the glamorous facade of makeup, past the gaudy, alluring clothing, and know exactly what she was.

And what was she?

Dirty little girl that she was, who cared more about what lay beneath her brother's clothes, than what the clothes themselves represented. What did the red jersey mean to the fans, the national pride it embodied—none of that mattered as much as the firm, muscular chest concealed beneath the tight fabric.

Mia had lost it.

The rest of the first half passed in a whirlwind. An unmitigated bloodbath, as South Korea demolished their Iraqi counterparts. The second half proved, mostly, to be nothing but a waste.

The Iraqi national team managed to breach South Korea's defense enough to matter just once. It brought them one goal, but that was all they achieved in the entire game, never breaking away or having the pace to equalize.

It ended 5-1 in South Korea's favor.

Mia, while watching the team pile up with their arms and hands raised up in the air and triumphant, wide, happy grins adorning all of their faces, was struck by the certainty she didn't remember a thing.

But hey, did it matter? The end result certainly made it feel worth it, so there was that.

By the time she had the presence of mind and returned to herself, the players had already cleared off, leaving the pitch mostly empty, except for a few, still milling around on the grass.

"Think we can still catch Jae-il before they hurry him off to the bus?" Eun Ha wondered aloud, a sigh escaping her lips. "It's been some time since I last held my son so close. I really miss him." She pursed her lips. "It feels silly. Thinking and realizing my son has spent more time out of the house than ever, doing something he clearly loves, which should have been something positive..."

"And here you are." Yeong Gu spoke softly. "Feeling worried. Feeling hurt." He rubbed his wife's back. "Feeling the longing and the emptiness in a parent's heart when a child no longer depends on them."

His touch on her clearly didn't make things better, if anything, her frown only deepened.

Su Ah was the first to stand up. "If we don't want to miss him, we should move quickly."

A new urgency settled in and the family sprang into action, shuffling their way out of their section and down the flights of stairs towards the tunnel, towards the pitch, to where the family members of players were granted access.

The organized chaos of post-match security and press swirled around them. Mia's eyes scanned the crowd of players in red jerseys. Coaches. Assistants. Journalists. Camera flashes.

He wasn't hard to find.

He stood just outside the main throng, talking to a reporter, a microphone held under his chin. He was still in his kit, grass and sweat stains visible on his red jersey. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead. He looked exhausted, and yet, there was a radiance to him, a sense of accomplishment that made him glow.

He looked...

'Mine.'

The word clawed at her mind, just like that, so powerful, and terrifying in its simplicity. She could've come up with a thousand ways to describe and praise her brother, but the first thing she'd think of was that he was hers.

Her gaze lingered on the exposed column of his throat, the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he answered a question.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, remembering the warm, velvety firmness of his body.

She was really fucking losing it.

The interview ended. Jae-il spotted their family and jogged his way over, a tired but genuine smile spreading across his face. His gaze skipped over Eun Ha, Yeong Gu, Su Ah, and finally landed on her. And it held. For a fraction of a second too long. It was nothing. It was everything.

"There's my champion!" Eun Ha cried, pulling him into a fierce hug. "I'm so proud of you, my sweet boy. So, so proud!"

Jae-il returned the embrace, his large frame engulfing his mother's smaller one. They held onto each other, swaying a little. "Thanks, Mom. It felt good out there."

"Good? It was brilliant! Your father and I were on the edge of our seats the whole time!"

Yeong Gu clapped him on the back, a hearty, booming sound. "That's my boy. Leading the charge." He then pointed a finger at him. "Don't get complacent. This is just the start. You've got a whole tournament ahead of you."

"I know, father. One game at a time."

Su Ah stood there, hands in her pockets, offering a small, reserved smile. "You didn't trip over your own feet. I'm impressed."

A light-hearted jest. Su Ah had long come to terms with the fact her brother was a magical talent.

"Harsh, Noona." Jae-il chuckled, then his eyes were back on Mia. "Mia Noona."

He was just looking at her.

Waiting.

And in that moment, all the sultry, bold confidence she'd been texting him for weeks evaporated. Not that she could've done anything with their parents standing right beside them, or the damn floodlights of the stadium, or the lingering reporters. Still, under his direct gaze, she felt like a complete fraud.

Had they been alone, she'd have practiced prolonged French CPR on him.

"H-Hey..."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Ah, that came out a little pathetic.