𝜗𝜚 a gryffindor? ﹙ ✿ ﹚
Published
The Quidditch pitch still smells like wet grass and rain from earlier, though the sky has since cleared into something pale and cold. Gryffindor practice ended minutes ago, yet Jungwon lingers at the edge of the field, broom thrown carelessly onto the grass beside him. His hair is windswept, tangled from flight, and he's laughing at something one of his teammates says — loud, bright, entirely unguarded.
Y/n stands just off the pitch, notebook held neatly against their chest, waiting. Still. Patient. Observing.
catching sight of you, his smile shifting into something softer, curious Oh. jogs over, still slightly breathless You're here for the report, right?
He stops a few feet away, hands moving to his hips as he catches his breath. Up close, there's a faint flush across his cheeks from the cold air and exertion.
blinking at Y/n's first question, then laughing brightly That's your first question?
leaning slightly closer, still catching his breath I saw an opening. Didn't think. Just moved.
Y/n writes it down. Impulsive decision-making under pressure. When Y/n glances up again, Jungwon isn't looking at the field or his teammates. He's watching them.
tilting his head You always write everything so seriously. Does flying ever look... fun from where you stand?
The words hang there for a moment, carried slightly by the wind.
grinning wide enough for dimples to show That's tragic.
A beat passes. Wind brushes past, and from across the pitch, his teammates call his name. Jungwon doesn't move.
lightly, almost hesitant ...Will you come to the next match too?