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auggierynThe Distance Between Blows
by Auggie Ryn
MinxSung
---
| Chapter One |
He didn’t mean to stop.
Didn’t mean to stare.
But the second their eyes met, the air in his lungs forgot what it was supposed to do.
Han, of course, didn’t notice.
Or maybe he did, and he chose to smile anyway, bright and unbothered, like Lee Know’s lungs weren’t currently on strike.
Lee Know frowned at the floor, annoyed at himself for noticing, more annoyed that Han didn’t seem to notice at all.
He cleared his throat and stepped back, irritation sharp and familiar, useful even.
“Hands up,” he said, flat.
Han blinked, then lifted his guard a second too high, elbows flaring without meaning to.
Lee Know sighed. “Relax. I’m not trying to knock you out.”
Han laughed under his breath, adjusting. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Lee Know moved in without thinking, nudging Han’s elbow down with two fingers, then his wrist, precise and impersonal.
“Preparation,” he said. “Half the battle.”
Han nodded, serious now. Focused. The smile came softer this time, like it belonged here.
Lee Know stepped back quickly, jaw tight, annoyed all over again, for reasons that had nothing to do with form. He lifted his own gloves and demonstrated the dip hook combo once more.
“Drop your weight, then come in even, so you don’t hurt your wrist. Try again.”
Han’s eyes narrowed, the smile finally fading as he steadied the bag with his shoulder. He shifted his feet, a small adjustment, heel turning in just enough to ground him. Knees soft. Weight balanced.
He rolled his shoulders once, like he was settling into his own skin.
Left jab.
Clean. Straight. Not rushed.
Lee Know didn’t react, didn’t nod, but his gaze sharpened all the same.
Han dipped, just enough to clear the imaginary counter, spine aligned, breath controlled this time, then came back in with the right hook. Not wild. Not muscled. Even.
The glove landed with a solid, hollow thud that set the bag swaying.
He froze there for half a second, guard still up, waiting.
Lee Know exhaled slowly through his nose.
Annoying.
“Again,” he said, already stepping closer. “You rushed the dip.”
Han blinked, then nodded. No argument. He reset without complaint, feet scraping softly against the mat. This time, when he moved, it was quieter. More deliberate.
The combination came smoother on the second pass. Less thought. More memory.
Lee Know watched the follow through. The way Han kept his wrist straight without being reminded. The way his shoulders stayed loose instead of locking up. The way he didn’t look over afterward, didn’t fish for approval.
That, more than anything, was the problem.
Lee Know reached out before he could stop himself and caught the bag to still its swing. His hand lingered there a second longer than necessary.
“Better,” he said, flat.
Han’s breath hitched, just barely, then evened out again. His mouth curved, not bright this time, not careless, just satisfied in a quiet way that sat low in his chest.
Lee Know dropped his hand and stepped back, irritation flaring sharp and familiar once more.
“Again,” he said.
The command hung in the air, thick with unspoken things.
Han nodded, a sheen of sweat making his temples gleam under the harsh gym lights. He reset his stance, but this time, as he moved into the dip hook combo, something shifted.
It wasn’t just cleaner.
It was confident.
He flowed into the motion, and as he came up from the dip, his body twisted in a way that put him far closer to his bodyguard and trainer than a moment ago.
The hook didn’t just land on the bag, it missed by an inch, his gloved fist brushing the sleeve of Lee Know’s shirt.
They both froze.
Han’s chest was heaving, his breath coming in ragged pants. He was close enough that Lee Know could feel the heat radiating off his skin, could smell the clean, sharp scent of his sweat.
He didn’t pull away.
Instead, Han’s eyes, dark and heavy lidded from exertion, lifted to meet his. The playful, unbothered smile was gone. In its place was something else.
Something that looked a hell of a lot like understanding.
Lee Know’s entire body went rigid.
It was a near miss. A sloppy follow through. The kind of mistake he’d been drilling Han to avoid for a week now. He should have been correcting him, barking out a reprimand about distance and control.
But he couldn’t.
All he could process was the phantom warmth of Han’s knuckles against his arm, and the way Han’s eyes had lit up at the realization of his own success.
Damn it.
“I got it!” Han gasped, pulling back with a wide, triumphant grin. He dropped his gloves, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an overeager puppy. “Did you see that? The dip, the twist, it felt right! It felt right!”
Lee Know stared at him, his jaw working silently.
Right?
It was a fucking liability. A breach of protocol. A catastrophic failure of his professionalism, and of the six inch personal space rule he’d mentally carved around his client.
But Han was just beaming, so genuinely pleased with himself, that all the sharp edged words Lee Know wanted to use dissolved on his tongue.
“Your form was sloppy,” he gritted out finally, the words tasting like ash.
“Sloppy? It felt perfect!” Han laughed, shaking his head. He ran a gloved hand through his sweat damp hair, pushing it back from his forehead. The movement left his throat exposed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he caught his breath.
Lee Know’s gaze tracked the motion, his own breath catching in a way that had nothing to do with exertion.
“Control, Han. You lost control at the end,” Lee Know said, turning away sharply to grab a water bottle. He needed the distance. He needed to stop smelling him. “You’re lucky that was a bag and not an actual threat.”
“I know, I know,” Han said, his tone losing a bit of its buzz but still bright with accomplishment. He followed Lee Know, crowding his space without a second thought. “But I felt the difference. The weight shift, the power. It’s clicking, finally. You’re a good teacher, hyung.”
The casual praise, the easy use of the honorific, the complete and utter lack of awareness in his eyes, it was a physical blow.
Lee Know unscrewed the cap of his water bottle and took a long, deliberate swallow, hoping the cold shock would somehow reboot his malfunctioning brain.
It didn’t.
All it did was make him more aware of the heat crawling up his own neck.
Lee Know let out a long, slow breath, the sound bordering on a groan. He shook his head, a sharp, dismissive gesture that was more for his own benefit than Han’s.
He couldn’t do this.
He couldn’t stand here and dissect the mechanics of a punch when his own body was betraying him with every beat of his heart.
“Shower,” he said, his voice flat and final. He didn’t look at Han, instead pointing a thumb toward the locker rooms. “We’re done for the day.”
Han, oblivious to the internal war being waged, just nodded eagerly. “Okay! Yeah, I’m sweating buckets. That last one really took it out of me.” He peeled off his gloves, letting them drop to the mat with a soft thud. “Hey, you wanna grab food after? My treat. For being such a good drill sergeant.”
The offer was so casual, so normal, it made Lee Know’s stomach clench.
Food. Like they were just two guys. Like he wasn’t being paid to be a shadow, a wall between Han and the rest of the world. A wall that was currently threatening to crumble.
“I’ll wait here,” Lee Know said, ignoring the question entirely. He crossed his arms over his chest, exhaling slowly.
“Suit yourself,” Han shrugged, completely unfazed. He turned and headed for the locker room, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t miss me too much!”
Lee Know watched him go, watched the easy swing of his hips and the broad line of his shoulders until he disappeared through the door.
Only then did he let his head fall back, staring up at the harsh fluorescent lights of the gym ceiling. He squeezed his eyes shut.
Miss me too much.
The words echoed in the sudden silence, a joke that felt dangerously close to the truth.
He was so, so fucked.
by Auggie Ryn
MinxSung
---
| Chapter One |
He didn’t mean to stop.
Didn’t mean to stare.
But the second their eyes met, the air in his lungs forgot what it was supposed to do.
Han, of course, didn’t notice.
Or maybe he did, and he chose to smile anyway, bright and unbothered, like Lee Know’s lungs weren’t currently on strike.
Lee Know frowned at the floor, annoyed at himself for noticing, more annoyed that Han didn’t seem to notice at all.
He cleared his throat and stepped back, irritation sharp and familiar, useful even.
“Hands up,” he said, flat.
Han blinked, then lifted his guard a second too high, elbows flaring without meaning to.
Lee Know sighed. “Relax. I’m not trying to knock you out.”
Han laughed under his breath, adjusting. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Lee Know moved in without thinking, nudging Han’s elbow down with two fingers, then his wrist, precise and impersonal.
“Preparation,” he said. “Half the battle.”
Han nodded, serious now. Focused. The smile came softer this time, like it belonged here.
Lee Know stepped back quickly, jaw tight, annoyed all over again, for reasons that had nothing to do with form. He lifted his own gloves and demonstrated the dip hook combo once more.
“Drop your weight, then come in even, so you don’t hurt your wrist. Try again.”
Han’s eyes narrowed, the smile finally fading as he steadied the bag with his shoulder. He shifted his feet, a small adjustment, heel turning in just enough to ground him. Knees soft. Weight balanced.
He rolled his shoulders once, like he was settling into his own skin.
Left jab.
Clean. Straight. Not rushed.
Lee Know didn’t react, didn’t nod, but his gaze sharpened all the same.
Han dipped, just enough to clear the imaginary counter, spine aligned, breath controlled this time, then came back in with the right hook. Not wild. Not muscled. Even.
The glove landed with a solid, hollow thud that set the bag swaying.
He froze there for half a second, guard still up, waiting.
Lee Know exhaled slowly through his nose.
Annoying.
“Again,” he said, already stepping closer. “You rushed the dip.”
Han blinked, then nodded. No argument. He reset without complaint, feet scraping softly against the mat. This time, when he moved, it was quieter. More deliberate.
The combination came smoother on the second pass. Less thought. More memory.
Lee Know watched the follow through. The way Han kept his wrist straight without being reminded. The way his shoulders stayed loose instead of locking up. The way he didn’t look over afterward, didn’t fish for approval.
That, more than anything, was the problem.
Lee Know reached out before he could stop himself and caught the bag to still its swing. His hand lingered there a second longer than necessary.
“Better,” he said, flat.
Han’s breath hitched, just barely, then evened out again. His mouth curved, not bright this time, not careless, just satisfied in a quiet way that sat low in his chest.
Lee Know dropped his hand and stepped back, irritation flaring sharp and familiar once more.
“Again,” he said.
The command hung in the air, thick with unspoken things.
Han nodded, a sheen of sweat making his temples gleam under the harsh gym lights. He reset his stance, but this time, as he moved into the dip hook combo, something shifted.
It wasn’t just cleaner.
It was confident.
He flowed into the motion, and as he came up from the dip, his body twisted in a way that put him far closer to his bodyguard and trainer than a moment ago.
The hook didn’t just land on the bag, it missed by an inch, his gloved fist brushing the sleeve of Lee Know’s shirt.
They both froze.
Han’s chest was heaving, his breath coming in ragged pants. He was close enough that Lee Know could feel the heat radiating off his skin, could smell the clean, sharp scent of his sweat.
He didn’t pull away.
Instead, Han’s eyes, dark and heavy lidded from exertion, lifted to meet his. The playful, unbothered smile was gone. In its place was something else.
Something that looked a hell of a lot like understanding.
Lee Know’s entire body went rigid.
It was a near miss. A sloppy follow through. The kind of mistake he’d been drilling Han to avoid for a week now. He should have been correcting him, barking out a reprimand about distance and control.
But he couldn’t.
All he could process was the phantom warmth of Han’s knuckles against his arm, and the way Han’s eyes had lit up at the realization of his own success.
Damn it.
“I got it!” Han gasped, pulling back with a wide, triumphant grin. He dropped his gloves, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an overeager puppy. “Did you see that? The dip, the twist, it felt right! It felt right!”
Lee Know stared at him, his jaw working silently.
Right?
It was a fucking liability. A breach of protocol. A catastrophic failure of his professionalism, and of the six inch personal space rule he’d mentally carved around his client.
But Han was just beaming, so genuinely pleased with himself, that all the sharp edged words Lee Know wanted to use dissolved on his tongue.
“Your form was sloppy,” he gritted out finally, the words tasting like ash.
“Sloppy? It felt perfect!” Han laughed, shaking his head. He ran a gloved hand through his sweat damp hair, pushing it back from his forehead. The movement left his throat exposed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he caught his breath.
Lee Know’s gaze tracked the motion, his own breath catching in a way that had nothing to do with exertion.
“Control, Han. You lost control at the end,” Lee Know said, turning away sharply to grab a water bottle. He needed the distance. He needed to stop smelling him. “You’re lucky that was a bag and not an actual threat.”
“I know, I know,” Han said, his tone losing a bit of its buzz but still bright with accomplishment. He followed Lee Know, crowding his space without a second thought. “But I felt the difference. The weight shift, the power. It’s clicking, finally. You’re a good teacher, hyung.”
The casual praise, the easy use of the honorific, the complete and utter lack of awareness in his eyes, it was a physical blow.
Lee Know unscrewed the cap of his water bottle and took a long, deliberate swallow, hoping the cold shock would somehow reboot his malfunctioning brain.
It didn’t.
All it did was make him more aware of the heat crawling up his own neck.
Lee Know let out a long, slow breath, the sound bordering on a groan. He shook his head, a sharp, dismissive gesture that was more for his own benefit than Han’s.
He couldn’t do this.
He couldn’t stand here and dissect the mechanics of a punch when his own body was betraying him with every beat of his heart.
“Shower,” he said, his voice flat and final. He didn’t look at Han, instead pointing a thumb toward the locker rooms. “We’re done for the day.”
Han, oblivious to the internal war being waged, just nodded eagerly. “Okay! Yeah, I’m sweating buckets. That last one really took it out of me.” He peeled off his gloves, letting them drop to the mat with a soft thud. “Hey, you wanna grab food after? My treat. For being such a good drill sergeant.”
The offer was so casual, so normal, it made Lee Know’s stomach clench.
Food. Like they were just two guys. Like he wasn’t being paid to be a shadow, a wall between Han and the rest of the world. A wall that was currently threatening to crumble.
“I’ll wait here,” Lee Know said, ignoring the question entirely. He crossed his arms over his chest, exhaling slowly.
“Suit yourself,” Han shrugged, completely unfazed. He turned and headed for the locker room, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t miss me too much!”
Lee Know watched him go, watched the easy swing of his hips and the broad line of his shoulders until he disappeared through the door.
Only then did he let his head fall back, staring up at the harsh fluorescent lights of the gym ceiling. He squeezed his eyes shut.
Miss me too much.
The words echoed in the sudden silence, a joke that felt dangerously close to the truth.
He was so, so fucked.
