The Chef x The Celebrity
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✨─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───✨
~ Date: June 26th – Interstellar Year 2422 ~
~ Location: Cheraw City, Luna Fang Ping Moon ~
~ Terra Anka PXD2422 ~
~ The Golden Dragon Star Nexus Intergalactic Empire ~
✨─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───✨
🐦🔥 [ Phoenix ☯ POV ] 🐦🔥
Nix reached the swim meet with just enough time to spare, and he was absurdly glad he had. Watching Beyol Joon compete was different from hearing about it over breakfast or seeing trophies lined up at home. In the water, Joon became precision and power: clean starts, sharp turns, controlled breathing, and the kind of focus that made every movement look effortless.
The pool itself was far beyond anything old Earth athletes could have imagined. Transparent holo-scoreboards floated above the lanes, updating split times, heart rates, stamina output, and stroke efficiency the instant each swimmer touched the wall. Palm-sized recording drones glided along the ceiling on silent stabilizers, while the lane markers pulsed with embedded timing sensors that fed results directly into the school's athletic ranking system.
And yet, beneath all the polished technology, swimming was still swimming. Breath, water, muscle, timing, will. An old Earth sport carried across ruined history, rebuilt beneath alien moons, and somehow still decided by the same simple question: who could reach the wall first?
The first race Nix watched properly was the 200-meter freestyle relay. Even with all the futuristic systems tracking every movement, the old rhythm of competition still held. Swimmers crouched on their starting blocks, goggles low and shoulders tense, waiting for the white pulse at the end of each lane. When it flashed, they dove almost as one, bodies cutting through the water in clean lines while the holo-board updated split times with ruthless precision.
Joon entered the water on the second leg. His dive was compact and sharp, his streamline so clean that he seemed to vanish beneath the surface for one breath before breaking into powerful strokes. At the wall, he tucked into a fast flip turn, feet striking the touch panel hard enough to send a white burst of data across the lane display. His teammates screamed themselves hoarse from the edge of the pool.
San Woo-Young was quieter in the water but no less impressive. In freestyle, he did not look like he fought the current; he looked as if he had negotiated with it. During breaststroke, his timing was controlled and elegant, every pull and kick measured without wasting motion. By the time he touched the wall after his individual medley, even the scouts pretending not to stare had stopped pretending.
Above the viewing stands, translucent spectator panels projected each swimmer's name, lane, school ranking, and predicted finish in pale blue light. Whenever someone broke a personal record, a ribbon of gold data swept across the display like a celebratory brushstroke before dissolving into the next heat's statistics. The cheering crowd sounded almost old-fashioned by comparison—parents on their feet, students pounding the railings, teammates shouting until their voices cracked—but that only made the scene feel more alive to Nix.
Small maintenance drones skimmed just above the water between races, clearing foam and checking mineral balance with tiny flashes of green light. The air smelled faintly of treated water, warm tile, and the clean metallic hum of circulation systems working beneath the floor. Even the starter signal was different here: not a whistle, but a soft chime followed by a pulse of white light at the end of each lane.
By the end of the meet, Joon's results looked almost unfair. Each time he touched the wall, another set of numbers flashed gold across the holo-board, and the cheers rose all over again.
Woo-Young's victories were quieter but no less memorable. He cut through the freestyle lanes with terrifying grace, held his form through breaststroke and individual medley, and blushed so hard when Nix cheered for him that he nearly missed his towel afterward.
The rest of Joon's teammates earned their share of applause as well, and Nix made sure to cheer for them whenever they were not directly competing against his little brother. He was in such a good mood that he did not even mind the photos and videos people kept taking of him. Some were discreet. Others were so obvious they might as well have asked him to pose. Since he would be appearing on The Chef and The Celebrity soon, he decided to treat it as practice: smile, pretend not to notice, and let them exhaust themselves.
After the awards were handed out, the swimmers disappeared into the locker rooms to shower and change while the audience slowly dispersed. Parents gathered bags, students chattered in clusters, and a few college scouts lingered near the exits, pretending not to watch the strongest competitors too closely. Staff began cleaning the stands, rolling away equipment, and clearing the edge of the pool.
Nix decided to wait near the locker room entrance so it would be easier to meet Joon and San Woo-Young when they came out. He planned to invite Woo-Young home for dinner and, if the boy was comfortable, maybe even to spend the night.
Part of him wanted to know the young man his little brother trusted so deeply. Another part wanted to give both boys a place where their feelings could breathe without fear. Joon and Woo-Young had been orbiting each other with painful caution, and Nix had no intention of shoving them together before they were ready—but he could at least make sure they knew they would not be alone.
The Beyols would love Joon regardless of whom he chose. Nix knew that as surely as he knew the warmth of their dining table. He believed they would welcome Woo-Young too if the boys ever chose to become more than friends. Society outside the family might still be cruel, especially to a hidden recessive omega from a beta household, but inside the Beyol home, Nix wanted both of them to feel safe.
He was less certain about San Woo-Young's family, and he was not naïve enough to think school gossip would be kind. Still, the world was changing, slowly and unevenly, and Nix had seen enough lifetimes to know that change often began with one person choosing to stand beside someone else.
A few alphas and betas approached while he waited, but Nix acknowledged them politely and sent them on their way before any of them could linger too long. By the time Joon and San Woo-Young finally stepped out of the locker room together, Nix's smile was already waiting for them.
The moment Nix saw them, amusement warmed his chest. Joon walked half a step closer to San Woo-Young than necessary, shoulders loose with post-race pride and eyes still sharp enough to warn off any stray attention. Woo-Young, meanwhile, kept glancing at him with the careful, helpless softness of someone trying very hard not to look too happy.
Nix stepped forward and caught them both in a hug before either boy could prepare for it. Joon accepted it with the easy confidence of family. Woo-Young went completely still for one startled heartbeat, then softened so carefully that it made something in Nix ache.
"What are those faces for?" Nix asked, pulling back just enough to look between them. His smile turned apologetic when he saw Woo-Young's wide eyes. "Sorry if I startled you. I just already think of you as family. You are Joon-ah's favorite BF, after all."
Woo-Young blinked. "BF?"
Joon's eyes flicked to him so quickly most people would have missed it. Nix did not. The tips of Joon's ears turned pink as he pulled Nix into a second, shorter hug and tried very hard to sound casual.
"Hyung has always been sweet and sentimental," Joon said, clearing his throat. "And... well, it is hard not to love Woo-Young, right?"
Woo-Young looked at Joon so fast it was almost a double take. His ears flushed a deep, helpless red before he lowered his gaze. "You should be careful saying things like that," he murmured. "People who do not know better might misunderstand."
"Maybe," Nix said lightly, pretending not to notice the way both boys had gone pink. "But Joon-ah is not wrong. You are very easy to like, Woo-Young-ah. I only met you this morning, and I can already tell you are a good person. Joon-ah has excellent judgment when it comes to the people he keeps close."
Woo-Young's smile turned shy but sincere. "He does," he said. "Joon is kind, but he is also sharper than people think. If he ever wanted to use that properly, he could probably convince half the school to follow him into disaster."
Joon huffed. "I would never lead anyone into disaster."
Then his expression darkened before he could hide it. "I still cannot believe I missed how awful Lee Eun-ae really was." His jaw tightened. "After what she did, there are not many polite words left for her."
Nix's teasing softened immediately. "That was not your fault. She worked hard to make sure people saw only what she wanted them to see." His voice cooled. "She is very good at pretending. If only she could act that well in front of a camera."
Woo-Young glanced between them, concern replacing his embarrassment. "Who are we talking about?"
Joon looked to Nix first. "I will explain later, if Hyung is okay with that."
"Of course," Nix said. "This hyung trusts our little Woo-Young-ah."
Woo-Young froze again, but this time his expression was so openly hopeful that Nix had to resist the urge to pinch his cheeks. "Hyung?" he asked softly. "Jinjja (진짜)? Really?"
"Really," Nix answered. "But if you are not comfortable with that, Phoenix or Nix is fine too."
Woo-Young bowed, bashful and bright. "Then... I will call you Hyung."
Joon made a dramatic sound of offense that fooled absolutely no one. "Wow, Hyung. I am almost hurt you are letting someone else call you that. Almost." Then he slung an arm around Woo-Young's shoulders with suspicious naturalness. "But if anyone else deserves it, it is Woo-Young."
Woo-Young lowered his head, but not quickly enough to hide the smile tugging at his mouth. He leaned into Joon's arm by the smallest possible amount, the kind of movement someone might miss if they were not watching for it.
Nix filed that away with great satisfaction. "Woo-Young-ah, if you do not have plans tonight, would you like to come home with us for dinner? You can stay over too, if you are comfortable. Joon-ah and I have separate rooms now, so it will not be crowded, and I know the rest of the family would love to meet you properly."
Woo-Young hesitated. "I am not sure if that would be too much trouble..."
"It is not," Joon said at once, cutting in before Woo-Young could retreat behind politeness. His voice softened at the edges. "Hyung is right. You should come over. I want to introduce you to everyone properly." He swallowed, then added, "So? Will you come home with me?"
Woo-Young's voice cracked on the first attempt. He cleared his throat, face burning. "Yeah," he said, then managed a small smile. "I will go home with you, Joon."
The double meaning landed so obviously that Nix had to look away before his smile betrayed him. Neither boy was ready to be pushed too hard, but a gentle nudge here and there? That was simply an older brother's responsibility.
Joon beamed. "Good. I would like that a lot too. Also, I am starving. If we do not leave soon, I may start chewing on my swim bag."
Woo-Young laughed softly. "I am looking forward to dinner. And dessert. Especially dessert. Your family's dosirak (도시락) always smells amazing when you bring it for lunch."
Joon blinked at him. "What do you mean? You share my lunch with me almost every day."
Woo-Young froze, clearly realizing too late that he had said that in front of Nix. His eyes widened with the helpless panic of someone who had accidentally confessed to treasuring every homemade bite.
Nix, merciful older brother that he was, pretended the comment had sailed right over his head. He would not call either of them out in front of the other. Not yet, anyway.
"Then thank you," Nix said warmly. "I am happy you like my cooking that much. I usually make Joon-ah's dosirak every day, but when I cannot, Eomeoni or Nuna makes it."
Joon's expression said he wanted to change the subject before Nix decided to become cruelly observant.
"Great," Joon said quickly. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go. I was not joking about being hungry."
"I believe you," Nix said, giving both boys a pointed look. "After a meet like that, I am not even sure when either of you last ate properly."
He lifted his communicator with a satisfied little smile. "Anyway, I ordered us a black hover cab as a celebration gift for both of you. You nearly swept the board between the two of you today. I am proud of you—not just for winning, but for how hard you train, how much you sacrifice, and how seriously you give your best every day."
Joon's whole face lit up. "A black hover cab? Hyung, seriously?"
"Seriously," Nix said. "Consider it a victory ride."
Woo-Young bowed his head, still shy but visibly moved. "Thank you, Hyung. It means a lot that you came, cheered for us, and noticed how hard we worked."
"Oh, Woo-Young-ah," Nix said, pressing one hand over his heart. "You are seriously too precious. I am warning you now: if you keep being this sweet, I will absolutely become unbearable."
Joon opened his mouth, probably to complain about sharing his hyung, but Nix cut him a look before he could start. "And before you say anything, Maknae, you will always be my precious baby brother too. Sharing affection will not kill you."
Joon looked deeply unconvinced, but he did not argue. His hand stayed comfortably at Woo-Young's shoulder as they followed Nix toward the exit, and Nix decided that was enough progress for one afternoon.
Nix had no intention of forcing either boy to name feelings they were not ready to face. Love, real love, needed room to breathe. He could offer warmth, safety, and a few carefully placed opportunities, but the rest had to be theirs. If Joon-ah and Woo-Young were meant to walk toward each other, then Nix would simply make sure the path beneath their feet was not full of knives.
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~ ✨~🐉~ ☯ ~🐦🔥~✨~