Chapter Text
The waiting area smells of plastic and coffee, a strange mix Yoonchae has come to associate with nerves and anticipation. Group C sits along the back wall, close enough that she can see the solving stations, the judges standing ready with clipboards.
Around her, cubes chatter—sharp clicks and rapid flurries, the snap of magnets finding their place. Voices blur together, punctuated by the beep of timers and the low murmur of judges calling out names.
Yoonchae sits on one of the long folding chairs, her backpack tucked neatly beneath her legs, her practice cube in her hands. She's already submitted her competition cube with the other Group C competitors. Now it's somewhere in the scrambling area, waiting.
She turns her cube slowly. Not scrambling, not solving. Just feeling it.
The magnets snap into place with a quiet certainty that steadies her breathing. She presses her thumbs against the center pieces, grounding herself in something familiar. She’s done this dozens of times—more than dozens—but the nerves never really go away. They just settle deeper, quieter.
She smooths the edge of a sticker with her thumb, even though it doesn’t need it.
“Hey—sorry, is this seat taken?”
The voice is close enough to startle her.
Yoonchae looks up quickly, instinctively drawing her cube closer to her chest. The girl standing in front of her has pink-streaked hair pulled back messily, lanyard swinging against her hoodie as she shifts her weight from foot to foot. She’s holding a cube too, already half-scrambled, fingers moving absentmindedly like they can’t stay still.
Yoonchae shakes her head. “No.”
“Awesome,” the girl says, dropping into the chair beside her with easy confidence, eyes bright. “Thanks.”
She scrambles her cube properly this time, fast and fluid, not even looking at it. Yoonchae tries not to stare.
“Nice setup,” the girl says after a moment, nodding toward Yoonchae’s hands.
Oh. Thanks." Yoonchae lifts it slightly. "It's a GAN."
"I thought so! Which one?"
"356 Air SM. This is just my practice one, but my competition cube's the same."
"Nice! I've been wanting to try one of those." The girl grins. "I'm still loyal to my Valk 3, but everyone says GANs are buttery."
"They are," Yoonchae says quietly, and finds herself almost smiling.
"I'm Megan, by the way."
"Yoonchae."
Megan smiles like she means it, wide and warm, like she’s genuinely pleased just to be sitting here.
They fall into a comfortable silence—not awkward, just… unfilled. Megan hums quietly while she scrambles, some tune Yoonchae doesn’t recognize. Yoonchae watches her hands again, the way her fingers seem to know where to go without conscious thought.
“First competition?” Megan asks.
Yoonchae shakes her head. “No. But I still get nervous.”
Megan laughs softly, glancing over at her. “Yeah, same. I don’t think that ever really goes away.”
That makes Yoonchae feel a little better.
When Megan’s name is called, she stands, rolling her shoulders like she’s shaking off excess energy. Before stepping toward the solving table, she turns back.
“Wish me luck?”
Yoonchae nods. “Good luck.”
Megan grins, like that was exactly what she wanted to hear, and jogs over to the table.
Yoonchae tells herself she's not going to watch. She should probably practice more, or at least look busy. But her eyes drift over to the solving stations anyway.
A runner brings Megan's scrambled cube to the station in a covered box, setting it down on the mat. Megan sits across from her judge, hands resting flat on either side of the timer. The judge asks if she's ready. Megan nods.
The judge lifts the cover.
Fifteen seconds to inspect.
Yoonchae watches Megan's eyes move over the scrambled cube, quick and focused. She picks it up, tilts it slightly to check the back. Her fingers hover near it, twitching slightly like they want to start already. She's planning her cross, probably her first pair too.
At around twelve seconds, Megan sets the cube back down on the mat and places her palms on the timer sensors. The display turns green. She lifts the cube and goes.
She's fast. Really fast. Her fingers fly through the turns—confident and precise, without hesitation. Yoonchae finds herself holding her breath without realizing it.
When Megan slams the cube down on the mat and hits the timer with both palms, she makes this little pleased sound, almost a laugh.
The judge writes down the time on the scorecard, and Megan signs it.
She looks up.
Their eyes meet across the room.
Megan flashes her a quick thumbs-up, cheeks flushed, grinning like she just won the lottery instead of finishing one solve.
Yoonchae's lips curve up before she can stop them.
When it’s her turn, the nerves return in full force.
She walks to the station and sits down. A runner places her covered cube on the mat in front of her. The judge asks if she's ready, and she nods, resting her hands flat on either side of the timer pad, fingers trembling just a little.
The judge lifts the cover.
The cube is a mess of colors, but her brain is already sorting through it. She picks it up carefully, tilting it. Cross on white—she can do it in five moves. Then that orange-green pair is already made, she just needs to insert it. Blue-red corner is—
"Eight seconds," the judge says quietly.
She blinks. Right. Time.
She sets the cube down. Palms on the timer. Green light.
She lifts the cube and solves.
Her hands know what to do. They've done this thousands of times. Cross, insert, turn, pair up, insert again. The algorithms flow without thought, muscle memory taking over where her brain would only slow her down.
She sets the cube down and stops the timer with both palms.
Her heart is pounding. The judge writes her time, and she signs the scorecard with shaky hands before stepping away.
"That was really good!"
Megan's right there, practically bouncing. "Your cross was so efficient, and that last pair—"
"It was okay," Yoonchae says, but she's smiling a little.
"No, it was really good." Megan says it like it's a fact, not a compliment.
Between rounds, they sit together again. Megan offers her water, which Yoonchae accepts with a quiet thank you. They compare times, leaning in close over the screen of Megan’s phone.
“You’re super consistent,” Megan says. “That’s kind of impressive.”
Yoonchae shrugs. “I practice a lot.”
“It shows.”
They talk about cubes, methods, and favorite solves. Megan is animated, hands moving as much as her mouth, while Yoonchae listens, nodding, chiming in when she has something to say. Somehow, Megan never rushes her.
At one point, Megan leans over to examine Yoonchae’s cube more closely, their shoulders brushing. The contact is brief, accidental—but neither of them moves away.
Yoonchae becomes very aware of the warmth at her side.
When Megan's name is called, she stands but hesitates, glancing down at her.
“Hey,” she says. “Want to practice together later? After our rounds are done.”
Yoonchae’s chest tightens in a way that’s not unpleasant at all.
“I’d like that,” she says.
Megan smiles softly.
“Cool.”
As Megan walks back toward the solving table, Yoonchae watches her go, a quiet realization settling in her chest.
She doesn’t know exactly when it happened.
Only that she hopes this isn’t the last round they share.