exo: grazed grace (2/2)
Lightroom is one of Baekhyun's favourite places in the world.
Its owner, an admittedly eccentric but very passionate young man had once told Baekhyun that natural light was both the cafe's concept and namesake. The walls aren't brick or plaster; they're made of hardy laminated glass, perfect for maintaining the temperature indoors no matter what the season. As he pushes open the door to the standalone cafe, Baekhyun belatedly realises he's never gotten the name of the owner, but a glance at the counter tells Baekhyun he's not in at work today.
He nods a polite greeting at the barista and sidles over to a table near the corner of the cafe. It's always empty when he pays a visit, almost as if it's been kept for him, a solace and sanctuary all to himself. The view, though, is what Baekhyun appreciates most about this particular seat. From here, he can see the streets of Apgujeong stretching into corners and alleys and onto main roads as far as the eye can see, designer labels selling branded goods and office buildings towering into the air.
In spring, the trees lining the walkway come to life in full bloom, flowers of a hundred different colours deep-set against the rich green of its leaves, swaying gently in a breeze. Everything remains quite the same in summer, except there are a lot more children and teenagers out and about since they'd be on summer break. Ice-cream cones, shorts, sunglasses, a party vibe that inspires a little bit of rebellion compared to the more demure, delicate spring season. Yixing's always commented around July that Baekhyun's displayed a habit of choosing to practise and showcase faster, more upbeat songs. By the time autumn comes, the trees are golden and crimson fire, dew on the leaves twinkling like little jewels. He likes to think it's a representation of the flame that ignites in all figure skaters as the competitive season draws to its climax. Now, in winter, all arms have been laid bare.
Snow blankets everything from the streets to mailboxes to buildings, a white expanse that's strangely warm to Baekhyun. He's always felt more comfortable with the cold, after all. A waitress comes by to take his order, forcing Baekhyun to tear his gaze away from the footprints of different sizes in the snow. "Just a latte for me," he says with a smile. "Oh, I'm waiting for someone else and he should be coming soon, so black coffee for him."
He unwraps his scarf and drapes it on the back of his chair, drumming his fingers lightly against the wooden tabletop and observing the little potted plant by the side of his table, nearest to the window. One constant, one that would always stay the same no matter the season outside. "You've always liked doing that with your fingers," someone says, and Baekhyun can't help but smile as speak of the devil flashes through his head. Kyungsoo slides into the seat opposite him, similarly wrapped in a scarf and a thick, black coat dotted with tiny bits of snow.
Lightroom reminds Baekhyun of a lot of things. The glass reminds him of the display wall in his room; the view, of the yearly routine of a figure skater and the first time he visited Seoul after registering in competitive figure skating.
Being here like this reminds him of what once was.
"It's been a long time," Baekhyun blurts out. Silent understanding drifts through them both; they know he's not talking about the last time they met. He's talking about the last time they did anything like this.
Kyungsoo looks out the glass, twining his fingers together on the table in front of him. "It has. That's why I asked if everything's okay." There is an edge of concern in his voice, one that Kyungsoo hasn't ever been able to properly conceal despite his occasionally abrasive attitude.
Yes, is the obvious answer hovering on the edge of Baekhyun's lips. Everything is fine; he'd just won his third consecutive world title and he's being offered tutelage by one of the most successful choreographers in modern day ice skating disciplines. It feels like it's trying to stop itself from falling off the edge of the precipice, though, because the answer never comes. There it is again, the small voice in the back of his head, buried in an archive of sorts. Is everything fine? Are you sure? Is this fine? Are you fine? When Kyungsoo pins him with a gaze that's part demanding and part concerned, Baekhyun seems to have lost the answer.
Instead, he says, "I don't have to be not fine to ask to meet, right?"
Kyungsoo's soft gaze, framed by dark lashes, is the only answer he gets. The unspoken continuation, though, lingers in the air between them like a cloud of mist, dispersed only when the waitress returns to the table with Baekhyun's order. No, you don't have to. But we've gone so long without meeting off the ice. What changed?
The silence between them continues, and Baekhyun feels like he's walking on a path made of glass. Like it could shatter any moment and he could fall, fall, fall, but for some reason, he doesn't quite mind. Kyungsoo places both hands around his mug, warming his fingers, before bringing the rim to his lips. Baekhyun does the same, eyes alternating from resting on the cold, heavily snow-covered streets outside and the warm, light familiarity inside.
Kyungsoo purses his lips, as if considering something he should say. The directness of his gaze is in stark contrast with the fidgeting of his fingers around the handle of his coffee mug. "I'm going to start practising for the Winter Olympics," he says, after a while. The tone of his voice sounds so much like Yixing's, it hits Baekhyun right in the chest, with the force of a whirlwind. Anticipation, aspiration, eagerness, all wrapped up in a burgeoning blanket of caution and steadiness, almost as if to break the news slowly. "I have two choreographers who told Ryeowook-hyung they want to work with me."
Baekhyun twists and turns the name over in his head, trying to recall who it is, when he remembers it's the name of the coach who's been working with Kyungsoo ever since the start of his career. Kim Ryeowook, the world champion whose promising career came to an abrupt end when he suffered a back injury that rendered him incapable of ever skating again. Much like Yixing and Baekhyun, he'd handpicked Kyungsoo from a local competition and polished him into the accomplished athlete he is today; Kyungsoo remains Ryeowook's only protégé to this day. On hindsight, he's the only one Ryeowook ever really needs to leave the smashing impact on the figure skating world that he'd once dreamt of doing.
"That's great," Baekhyun says genuinely. He always knew Kyungsoo would make it to the highest of podiums in this discipline; he'd never once doubted it.
The dark eyes staring at him like a hawk's, watching for the slightest movement, finds its prey. "I'm sure you've been asked about the Olympics as well. We missed the last one for the same reason." Baekhyun often forgets that this unusually accurate understanding they have of each other works both ways. It's highly likely Kyungsoo would be able to match him in a fact-for-fact showdown, and even likelier that Kyungsoo would be able to read the emotions behind little flickers in his eyes and the shifting of his arms. Kyungsoo capitalises on his silence. "That's why you're not fine. You're worried about the Olympics."
Soft laughter trickles out of Baekhyun's lips, into his coffee cup, onto the table and the floor. "Yeah," he admits, feeling the same things he told Yixing yesterday bubbling in his throat. "The Olympics... it's everything I've ever worked for. I don't want to fuck this up before I know I'm ready for sure. I can't do that to myself."
For a while, the only sounds around them are the soft chattering of other patrons, the clinking of mugs and plates at the counter, the soft whirr of the coffee machine. The door opens and closes; someone's just left. Kyungsoo runs a finger along the mouth of his cup and leans in on his elbows. "If you spend all your time thinking about how you're not ready, you won't have enough time to focus on how ready you really are."
The quietness of his words travel back the same path Baekhyun's laughter came from - across the table, past his coffee cup, onto his lips, down his throat and into his chest. Kyungsoo's general demeanour has always been different from his hard-hitting precision on the ice; he's more laid-back, preferring to watch something from the sidelines instead of being directly involved. Whenever they walked along the Han River, Kyungsoo would stay further from the bank than Baekhyun. He'd always liked the safety of the footpath more. People always say it wouldn't do to dwell on the past than look to the future. But when the future's so uncertain, hiding behind a blizzard, who's to blame him for wanting to turn back on the safe road he's trekked?
"I know. I just... I need more time to think about it. If I'm going," he pauses, to find the right words, "I want to be the best there ever was. I want to do something no one's done before. Like... a quadruple axel or something."
Kyungsoo eyes him warily. "No one's ever landed a quadruple axel before. You'd be crazy to try it."
Just like that, a smile finds its way to Baekhyun's lips again, as easy as it used to, just like how Kyungsoo's words are being less formal, more truthful now. He still feels like he's trying to keep distance, but he's taken a small step forward, has outstretched his hand. Lightroom's always felt like home, and never more than now. "You know I've always been kinda crazy."
"You've always been that loony guy." Kyungsoo finally gives in, the corners of his lips twitching upwards as he glances down at his cup, and then back up at Baekhyun. "Crazy for stupid things like cotton candy and the ice."
Nine years of keeping their distance melts away like snow as winter edges into the beginnings of spring's warmth. Baekhyun would like to say nothing's changed, but time doesn't work that way. Some things have changed. Baekhyun feels his heart skip a beat when he wonders if what's changed are the important things. "Nine years, Kyungsoo," he says, so, so softly. "Do you feel like we've picked up where we left off?"
He was thirteen, then, and Kyungsoo was twelve. To teenage boys fresh out of their hometown in Bucheon, being introduced to the bustling city of Seoul so suddenly felt too daunting. There were too many cars and buildings and businessmen, not enough sea breeze and trees and friendly neighbourhood traders. But there was the ice, and maybe that could be enough. When they met, introduced to each other at the local skating rink by their new coaches in the hopes of easing them into Seoul life more easily, they began spending hours talking about the bays at home, fishing season, the small festivals they had every month. Baekhyun liked regaling tales of fishing exploits with his father and Baekbeom; Kyungsoo told him about the vegetables he helped his mother plant. They were each other's piece of home.
Coming of age is more than just growing older, Baekhyun came to learn; coming of age is growing up. It's knowing what to win and what to lose, when to do it, and seeing sacrifices through. They were still young, and didn't quite understand what it was they were losing and what they were winning, and the exponential price they would have to pay. Baekhyun left for Toronto the same week Kyungsoo moved to Los Angeles; the weekend before, they'd shared a laugh about the fact that they barely spoke English and the amount of money they wouldn't mind spending to write letters to each other the good old-fashioned way.
Weeks passed. Weeks turned into months, months into years, years into the void. No letters were written.
When next they'd met, at the Junior World Figure Skating Championships, Baekhyun was fifteen, determined, and lost. He greeted Kyungsoo with a simple hi, nothing more, and received the same in response. The number of words they exchanged increased with the years, but it's nothing like they used to share. Nothing like all the times Baekhyun called Kyungsoo a stuck-up asshole and Kyungsoo calling him crazy.
Nothing like what could be now.
"Why didn't you write to me?" Kyungsoo's questions breaks through Baekhyun's reverie. "Why do we have a point where we 'left off' in the first place?"
Baekhyun looks down at the table, attempting to buy some time, but all he realises is their proximity and how close they are. They've both leaned forward over the small table at some point in the discussion, and Baekhyun can see that Kyungsoo's fingers are resting flat on the table, spread slightly, almost as if waiting for someone to fill the gaps for him. They have a lot of answers they need; he knows as much. "The training regime... it was crazy. I came home every day and all I could do was collapse and sleep. I had no river to walk by at night," he says. Nine years worth of an answer feels like it's just left the weight in his chest. "I had no one to walk with."
When he lifts his gaze up to meet Kyungsoo's, he isn't sure what he sees. There's a mix of regret and gratefulness, restraint and relief, sadness and happiness. "Same here. We were young and it was going to be our careers. I guess... I guess we were both just waiting for each other."
There is no to write to finish the sentence.
(As if he's just remembered something, Kyungsoo blinks down at the cup in front of him. "You remembered. You remembered how I liked my coffee, even back when we were kids and we weren't even supposed to be drinking that," he says slowly, surprise evident in the lines of his face and the crinkle of the corners of his eyes.
Baekhyun smiles brightly enough for the both of them. "I did.")
✧
"Stop, stop!"
Frustration cuts into Baekhyun's skin like a hot knife through butter. Yixing is rarely ever distressed, which leaves Baekhyun grappling with loose ends when he is; things are harder to handle if they've never been experience before. "You can't keep trying to do two Y spins with a change of foot! Michelle Kwan did that all the time and it was dandy for her, but we've discussed this and it looks really weird in this draft routine," Yixing says sternly, arms crossed over his chest. "I know I always give you free reign with your choreography, but you've never tried to suggest something like this before. This part is something you can mess around with, but don't suggest something you know isn't going to work."
The edge in his voice makes Baekhyun flinch. They've been at this for an hour and they're barely twenty seconds into the routine. "What about a Biellmann?" he asks, wiping sweat off his brow.
Yixing consults the piece of paper in his hand before answering. "You have a Biellmann later, but I guess we can change that. Unless you want to do switch your jump and spin combinations and do the jumps here, spins later?" Baekhyun watches a sketch of his routine unfold in his head as he thinks it through. He's suggested replicating everything renowned skaters are famous for - the double Y spins, the death drop - but nothing seems to be sticking. He can't be frustrated at Yixing either, because he knows everything Yixing's said so far is right.
Baekhyun squares his shoulders, wets his lips. If he's going to be practising for the Olympics, he might as well go all out. "I'll do my jumps first. Quadruple axel, double Salchow or loop," he says, determinedly. The hardness in his voice surprises even him; it's a hardness that tells of the hours he's thought about doing this. He doesn't have to replicate his seniors. He'll outdo them.
"Baekhyun," Yixing calls his name almost disbelievingly. "No one's ever landed a 4A."
"I'm going to the Olympics." His voice drops to a quiet challenge, almost as if daring anyone to say otherwise. It's trembling, though. Baekhyun isn't sure if it's fear, or the sheer strength of how much he wants this. "If I'm gonna be taking part, I need to shine. I need something that'll help me pull ahead of everyone else and make a banging entry, Xing."
Out of all the jumps, Baekhyun's always felt an affinity for the axel. It's half a rotation more than the other jumps, half a challenge more. With this, he has a chance of going down in history, of topping scoreboards he'd only ever dreamt of conquering. His heart is hammering in his chest in anticipation, a messy, mismatched rhythm with his heavy breathing. Surely, Yixing would say yes, surely.
"I won't stop you from trying," he finally allows, in an even voice that's more dissatisfied than consenting. "But if you start hurting yourself from the falls, I'm pulling the move out. I don't care how upset it makes you. You are not injuring yourself, no matter what it's for." It's not much of a seal of approval, but it's as close to a yes as Baekhyun knows he's going to get at this point in time.
He nods and makes for a round on the ice again to pick up speed for the jump. Ideally, skaters should have as much speed at entrance as they should in exit, and if he's to attempt another complete, clean rotation in the air before landing, Baekhyun realises he needs to go a little faster. The blades of his skates start to feel like they're under strain, cutting deeper into the ice than they should, but it's no matter. Baekhyun takes a deep breath, pictures the axel and Salchow clearly in his head, takes the jump.
Soaring clean into the air, he folds his arms inward to concentrate the mass of his body towards the jump's axis, and begins to count between the seconds.
One, one half, two, two half, three, three half, four-
Blinding pain punches him in the side with the force of a mailed fist as he tumbles onto the ice in an ungraceful heap, landing on his hipbone. "Fuck," he hisses between gritted teeth, clutching his waist as he climbs back onto his skates. Pressing his fingers tentatively against the cotton of his shirt, he grimaces when the fabric makes contact with his skin. It's going to be the first of many bruises, none of them pretty. He jams the toe pick of his right skate into the ice to steady himself as he deals with the rotational inertia of attempting so many turns in the air, and waits for the throbbing in his side to ebb. "Fuck, that hurt."
"Are you okay?" Panic bubbles through every syllable of Yixing's words like a dam that's just exploded.
"'m fine!" he answers with as much normalcy as he can muster, turning away and skating in the opposite direction to hide his grimace. It's nothing he hasn't dealt with before; the first few days he attempted to do a quadruple lutz had all ended in disaster, but it still hurts.
Fall after fall after fall he takes, and Baekhyun starts to count the hours that have passed by the number of falls he suffers instead of the minutes and seconds. His hip, thighs and back feel absolutely shattered, each jolt of pain sharper than the last, cruel tendrils puncturing his skin and clawing it black, blue and green. At the speed he has to go at to even stand a chance of pulling off the 4A without accidentally cheating a jump, the tumbles he takes are harder than usual, the ice coming up to meet his body. But with each time he falls, he forces himself to his feet, even though it takes a longer time to recover with each succeeding collision with the ground. No pain, no gain.
He isn't even sure what time it is anymore when Yixing calls out a strangled, "Okay, that's enough, stop."
Moisture from the ice is seeping into Baekhyun's shirt. This time, he'd stumbled and landed on his left shoulder, and that, too, is burning. Yixing hurries onto the ice and helps him up, guiding him by the arm back to solid ground. As he takes off his skates in slow, disjointed movements, he wriggles his toes a little bit, and he's not sure if he should be happy they're not hurting after prolonged hours in his skates, or mildly alarmed that he can't quite feel them anymore. "You're going to end up killing yourself," Yixing reprimands. He's angry, Baekhyun realises, as angry with Baekhyun's stubbornness as he is with himself, for ever giving him the green light in the first place, no matter how reluctant. Baekhyun knows Yixing will never be able to full-on yell at him for this, though, because it's his determination and strive for success that caught Yixing's eye in the first place. "Look at you, you're battered. Stop this, okay? You're not doing that quadruple axel. You can try doing a triple/triple loop combination; you've done it in competition before, but that was a long time ago and you took a deduction for that uneven landing. I'd rather you practise that and know you have a chance of succeeding, rather than doing this and watch you fall for hours on end."
Baekhyun can feel his knees have been grazed from the multiple abrasions. But it's nothing, it doesn't even hurt, compared to his wounded pride. "Rome wasn't built in a day," he mumbles. "I can try tomorrow."
"Yes." To Baekhyun's surprise, Yixing agrees, but the agreement is short-lived. "Yes, you can, and you have another day's worth of chances to break something or be out of the remainder of this season with an injury. You've sprained your waist before. Don't aggravate the risks of it happening again."
"Xing-"
Abruptness has never been in Yixing's nature, so Baekhyun is taken aback when Yixing cuts him off. "I know you. I've worked all these years with you, and I know what you're capable of. I know how far you can push yourself. This isn't going to work." The admonishment in his last sentence comes gently, almost as if a kind tone would be able to soften the blow of breaking reality to him. Deep down, Baekhyun knows he's right. He can feel futility blooming with each of the bruises he's received, each throbbing violently every time he puts weight on them or accidentally brushes them against something.
So he leaves Yixing with a goodbye brasher than he intended, but courtesy is not for tonight. All he wants to do is sleep this off, and maybe he'll come to terms with the fact that a triple/triple would be more beneficial in the long run instead of a smashing quadruple. Maybe.
There's a mild limp in his stride by the time he's walked the two streets back to his apartment with his trusty little luggage bag in hand. He used to have one that he hoisted onto his shoulder, but Soojung had claimed it was bad for body posture and had gotten him a trolley one two years ago for his birthday. It's hardy and just big enough for everything he usually brings along, plus it's light, so Baekhyun doesn't really have any complaints.
Sleep seems determined to escape his clutches a little longer, though, as the elevator doors part and Baekhyun rounds the corner to find someone waiting for him at his doorstep. Kyungsoo is dressed in a simple dark grey sweatshirt, skinny jeans and black Converse; Baekhyun can't quite recall if he's ever seen Kyungsoo wear bright colours off the ice. Even his skating outfits usually lean towards the darker, more muted side of the colour spectrum.
Kyungsoo opens his mouth to say something, but clamps his jaw shut again when he sees Baekhyun's hunched posture, watches the odd way he walks and his all-around lack of strength. "You tried doing the quadruple axel," he says. His voice lilts in a strange way, not because it's hammering home the fact that it was a ridiculous thing to attempt, but perhaps because there is genuine concern in his voice, one that Baekhyun hasn't ever heard before. It's not like he's ever needed to.
"I'm trying to do the quadruple axel," he corrects. "I haven't given up."
A derisive chuckle precedes a step forward from Kyungsoo, out from the shadows of the wall he was leaning against into the light of the hallway. The light bounces off his jaw and nose and lips, and Baekhyun wonders if his neck has always been so long, his jaw always so angular. Kyungsoo grips him by the arm, right on the bruise Baekhyun recalls getting somewhere between his thirtieth and fortieth fall. "Look at yourself," Kyungsoo whispers. "You're limping and you look like you've just risen from the grave. Don't rid yourself of the season; you still have other tournaments to compete in."
Baekhyun yanks his arm away, ignoring the soreness of the bruise and the pliable way Kyungsoo's fingers fall from his grip, like he's afraid of pushing too much, too hard. "Give me a break. You've had your fair share of falls practising a new move." He leans closer, barely breathing the words. "I won't hurt myself any more than I have to."
"And hurting yourself is a pre-requisite now? There are some things you just can't do."
Baekhyun rolls his eyes and pushes past Kyungsoo, his trolley bag coming to a skidding halt by the door as the fumbles for his keys in his pocket. "You never know until you try. Winners don't quit."
"Winners know when to stop, and when they're gonna bend so hard, they break. Winners know their limits."
"I wasn't aware that discouraging someone was the best approach to advising-"
"It's not like you actually listened to advice, anyway!"
"Why are you so bent on getting me not to do this jump?"
"I know you-"
Baekhyun whirls around so hard, hand flying off the handle of his door with a loud metallic sound, keys all but forgotten. "Shut up! You, of all people, have no right to say you know me." His shout dies down to a trembling hiss, words clear but voice losing itself in the sands of bitterness and disappointment in his throat. "You left me alone and I've changed since then. You don't know me."
For half a heartbeat after he finishes, Baekhyun worries if he's woken up other tenants. It's a good, decent place to stay in, but the walls aren't exactly the most soundproof, especially if this is yelling in the middle of the night. At least, it feels like the middle of the night if he's measuring in bruise units; Baekhyun isn't wearing a watch and he can't be bothered to check his cellphone at the moment.
Kyungsoo's expression is such a flurry of emotion that it's become unreadable - there's shock, anger, disappointment, frustration, sadness. It's a lot of things that Baekhyun never really wants him to feel, ever. "You forget," he says, crossing the distance between them with measured steps. His breathing is steady, warm against Baekhyun's skin when he speaks. "I might not know the full extent of who you are now, but I knew you once. And if it's one thing I do know about you-" He lifts a tentative hand to Baekhyun's cheek, never quite touching the skin with his palm. Only Kyungsoo's fingers make contact, skating across the shell of his ear, the cut line of his jaw, the very edge of his lip. It reminds Baekhyun of the way somebody's fingers would roam over a map, not an old-timer trying to memorise it, but someone new who hasn't ever seen it, basking in new knowledge and admiration, harbouring a sense of sadness for what's been lost. "-is that you never really change much."
The cold metal of the handle pushes against Baekhyun's back as he takes deep breaths, but he's fairly certain the oxygen isn't reaching him. Kyungsoo's close now, so close, and Baekhyun can hear him as loud as day even if he's whispering. "Don't do this to yourself. Don't do this to me. I know you have your dreams, but... not at the expense of you getting hurt. I don't want you hurt." Baekhyun's gaze falls onto Kyungsoo's lips; they're trembling with an effort, some kind of effort, and it's never felt quite so tempting to lean in and kiss someone's worries away.
Like a strip of silk in the night, Kyungsoo pulls his hand back from his skin so lightly, all that's left is a wisp of the touch. Something ruffles and crunches in the night, and Baekhyun feels his hands instinctively closing around the bundle being pressed to his chest. It's a plastic bag.
"Good night, Baekhyun."
Kyungsoo has to round the corner before his cheek begins to heat, the ghost of Kyungsoo's touch haunting his skin. Cautiously, he looks down and peers into the plastic bag. Two cups of ramyeon stare back up at him like red eyes on an albino tiger. The memory hits him with the force of a trainwreck; the nights they snuck out to the convenience store to eat junk food even if they weren't supposed to, Baekhyun spending an hour or two laughing at the way Kyungsoo's face turns red whenever he gets coaxed into eating curry ramyeon. Just like old times.
When Baekhyun opens one of the cups at the dining table later (it's one in the morning, his wall clock says), he finds it doesn't taste all that great anymore. Perhaps it's just the years he's spent away in Canada, or perhaps it's the lack of company.
Baekhyun can't find it in himself to finish it.
✧
The next day comes with its fair share of falls, but not that many, and none as painful as the haul from the day before. Baekhyun had told Yixing first thing in the morning that he would be okay if the quadruple axel ultimately didn't come through to the final routine, and that a combination of two triple loops would be more than a fair substitute. He decides to go with jumps first, spins later, though; he already has an idea for a combination and preceding connecting steps. Yixing's never been too good with masking emotion, if the surprise on his face was anything to go by, but he was also visibly relieved that Baekhyun had come around. Since Baekhyun already took a beating from the ice, Yixing joked that he wouldn't have to do it himself. After two hours' worth of morning practice (substantially harder, given the bruises he'd received), Yixing opted to cut training short for the day and spend the other half shortlisting music to work with for next season's routines, as well as the Olympics'.
But like most days where he gets let off early, either for an appointment or just as a treat, Baekhyun always feels somewhat incomplete, like there's a part of his day he hasn't quite lived yet. More than once, especially nearing competition time when Yixing just bunks over to save time and money commuting, he's caught Baekhyun sneaking off with his skates and a fresh set of clothes in tow, headed for the rink at "goodness knows what hour it is right now".
It's two thirty in the morning today, according to Baekhyun's watch. He's grateful that the rink here is kept open all through the night; he's even made friends with the kindly security guard that usually has the night watch. He doesn't know what he'd do to brush away the unsettled feeling he always gets when he doesn't skate enough for a day, otherwise. Soojung had, on more than one occasion and none too softly, complained about how far the nearest skating rink is from the apartment unit she shares with her sister.
The lights are as bright as ever, the skating rink just as cold. There aren't usually too many other people even during the day, but at night, tranquility and quiet seem to float around with the very particles of the air he's breathing. It's a strange form of meditation, kind of. He laces up his skates, pulls on a jersey hoodie over his tank top and makes it onto the ice in record time. The bruises around his waist still hurt, but it's made a lot better being in the skating rink than off it. Baekhyun as steady a skater as they come, but there'll always be a feeling of unbalance; he is, ultimately, standing on a slippery floor with two thin blades of metal. The unbalance is more anchoring than the stability of solid ground.
Baekhyun laughs bitterly. Kyungsoo was right. Nothing changes much with him.
Kyungsoo. The name comes to him with so much familiarity and so much regret, the emotions feel like tidal waves. He wonders if he'd put an end to their friendship of over a decade with the way they'd argued last night, if Kyungsoo would ever even want to salvage the splinters of the bridge he'd broken. Baekhyun ultimately decides that nothing good will come out of dwelling on this at this time; he could worry about it in the morning, and every morning after.
Tonight, he's here to skate.
Not as a professional athlete, not as reigning world champion, not as a potential Olympic medallist, but just as Byun Baekhyun, as the six-year-old who first felt what it was like to move on the ice, as the ten-year-old who skated alone at the unpopular ice skating rink back home every day after school, without inhibitions or expectations.
He fishes out his iPod and puts it on loudspeaker, scrolling through the tracks for something he feels like skating at this point in time. It's true, Baekhyun supposes, what they say about solitude not being for the weak; it emboldens you, inspires a sense of freedom that pushes you to do something you would never otherwise do. Throughout his career, he's only ever skated to a Korean song once; that was the year he won his first Grand Prix title. He presses play, and kicks off onto the ice.
Some things stay with you no matter how much time has passed, and this routine is one of them. Baekhyun still remembers every sidestep, every turn, every little thing he paid attention to during the championships all those years ago. The climax of the song, the last chorus, is a spin combination - a donut spin that ends in a Biellmann, a combination that Baekhyun has since frequently incorporated into his routines to fully maximise the length and curve of his limb extension.
It was one of his more artistic choreographies, Baekhyun recalls, as he finishes his routine just in time with the music, hands crossed over his chest and tucked in, head angled to face the floor instead of the audience. He almost wishes he could skate to this again, and considers asking Yixing if they could do anything with this song; perhaps new steps, an entirely different feel compared to this sorrowful one. Maybe something more free.
"Your Biellmann needs some work. It was a bit off-centre."
Not even in his wildest dreams did Baekhyun think he'd hear that voice again so soon, at least not tonight. Do Kyungsoo is standing by the entrance, almost blending in with the black door in his dark getup. He peels away from the door and starts descending the steps, and Baekhyun can see that he's brought his skates too, tied up in a drawstring bag over his shoulder. "Kyungsoo," he breathes, as if the illusion will break if he's any louder and Kyungsoo might disappear. "What're you doing here? At this time?"
The smile that graces Kyungsoo's lips is painful in its gentility, light reaching his brown eyes. Baekhyun feels his heart clench in his chest a little bit. "I was watching an old friend of mine skate," he says, pausing to lace on his skates and leaving Baekhyun in silence. He only continues once he's on the ice, the relaxation in his body apparent as he sinks into familiar territory. "It was something I've missed."
"Look, I'm sorry about yesterday..." Baekhyun begins.
Kyungsoo comes to a halt in front of him, gaze boring into Baekhyun, drinking him in. The stop is as light and delicate as a dandelion; it's another thing Baekhyun's always noticed, even back when they were still training for entry into the competitive circuit. Kyungsoo's skating is hard-hitting accuracy and technique-oriented, but his stops are so light, they feel fluid and natural. Baekhyun's strength lies in his effortless grace on the ice, yet his breaks are heavy-handed, almost forceful, to make up for the little extras in his jump height and speed.
"Don't be. I know you were upset," Kyungsoo answers, with a slight shake of his head. Baekhyun wants to reach out to him, grab him by the shoulders and tell him that he should be angrier, or maybe touch him the same way Kyungsoo did yesterday, trace the shape of his nose and mouth with his fingers. He can't decide, so he settles for the in-between, hands loosely balled into fists at his side and breathing deep, watching Kyungsoo's every movement.
Kyungsoo's always been strangely unperturbed under the weight of Baekhyun's stare. He's always gazed back with equal intensity, a jumble of emotions waiting to be deciphered behind the veil of his dark eyes. "You should've seen yourself skate." He gestures to the ice around them. "This is where you belong. You skate best when you don't think about anything but skating. You skate best," he pauses and grins, "when you think no one is watching."
"Why do you know so much about me?" The rhetorical question Baekhyun asks is met with soft laughter from them both.
"I just do."
There it is again: that hesitancy, the slight uncertainty that sends little shivers up Baekhyun's spine. He's fought pain, fought disappointment; he decides he can fight this, too. Slowly, as if not to disturb the balance they've come to attain, he rests a hand against Kyungsoo's cheek, brushing circles into the skin with his thumb. He wonders if Kyungsoo feels the same burn that he did, and moves his hand to settle on the back of Kyungsoo's nape, pulling him close, close, closer.
Kyungsoo's even steadier than Baekhyun usually is on the ice, but his fingers close over Baekhyun's sweater, gaze flickering upward in an almost shy manner that was strangely un-Kyungsoo. He isn't afraid, just... Baekhyun can't quite put a name to it. It's almost like Kyungsoo's living something he's only ever dreamt of, and can't quite believe it. "You always fly so close to the sun," he mumbles, breath blowing gently against Baekhyun's face. They're inches away now, only a tilt of the head away. His hand is resting just above the biggest bruise blooming on Baekhyun's waist, as if by instinct, even if he can't see it. "You need to take care of your wings once in a while. They could burn."
Baekhyun can feel the flutter of Kyungsoo's eyelashes against his face. It's all it takes to brush his doubts away. "Falling doesn't sound so bad."
"You saved yourself just in time today. You didn't fall."
Kyungsoo's lips are soft and pliant beneath the pad of his thumb. The slight exhale tickles Baekhyun's skin; the scent, the feeling, everything, it's all so heady. He feels almost drunk, like someone else has taken control of the words he's saying. "You're wrong," he murmurs. "I've been falling for a long time now. I hit the ground really hard recently."
"Don't say that, you-"
"I've been falling for you."
The fit of their mouths and bodies are perfect. Kyungsoo's fingers tangling and tugging at his hair feel better than any finished routine, the taste of his tongue and lips sweeter than any gold medal. The kiss feels like a trigger to a joint fall, for lack of a better word to call it, slowly edging towards the precipice, pushing, pulling, closer and closer and then falling off it all at once. He's always had an affinity for the cold, but warmth doesn't seem all that bad now, not when it's from the press of Kyungsoo's lips, the pads of Kyungsoo's fingers. Baekhyun chases after Kyungsoo's lips, kiss after kiss after kiss, an intoxication he never wants to cure. Kyungsoo finally stops him with a breathless laugh, but he doesn't pull away, kept in place by Baekhyun's hands and breathing against his lips. "It's good to know I wasn't the only one falling all these years. Nine years is a long way down."
Baekhyun sounds just as out of breath as Kyungsoo, like they'd both run a marathon. In retrospect, they probably have - running from the beginning to the end, and then to the middle, to finish what they started, except on a different route. "And here I thought I'd ruined nine years of friendship."
"You did." Kyungsoo's lips curve upward when they meet Baekhyun's in another kiss. "We're something more now."
✧
The roar of the crowd is nothing short of deafening. It feels like he's drowning, with the sound of waves splitting against the rocks beating at his ears. Baekhyun adjusts the delegates' sweater he's wearing; it's a cool night in Pyeongchang, and if he cranes his neck to look up in this cramped space, squished against a hundred other people, he can see the stars. They look like white glitter on black ice.
He can barely hear the beating of his own heart, but a mouth presses lightly against the shell of his ear. Kyungsoo is smiling at him, wearing matching clothing, just as overwhelmed by the prospects of all this as he is excited. Over the tops of people's heads, he can see the stands thronging with people, the signature colours of the Olympic logo all around the stadium, a gleaming, giant goblet at the far end of the stadium for the opening ceremony. The small, intimate gesture goes unnoticed in the chaos, and Kyungsoo beckons him closer again. "Ready?" he asks, half-yelling the question, a hand wrapped gently around Baekhyun's wrist.
Baekhyun smiles and half-yells back. "As I'll ever be."
one | two | extras
NOTES:
01. The men's singles gold medallist in the 1997 World Figure Skating Championships - the tournament that first inspired Baekhyun to take up figure skating - was Canada's Elvis Stojko. The actual silver medallist was Todd Eldredge, from the USA.
02. Skaters competing in the men's and women's singles at the World Juniors must be at least 13 years of age but not yet fully 19 before the previous July 1.
03. In sports, including figure skating, a podium finish means being either the gold, silver or bronze medallist.
04. Counter-clockwise jumpers are relatively rare in the figure skating industry; for them, revolving in the air is done in a counter-clockwise direction. Most skaters are clockwise jumpers.
05. This fic is set in the year 2015. The ISU World Figure Skating Championships are held in Shanghai this particular year.
06. MBC is the short form for Munhwa Broadcasting Corporation, one of four major national broadcasting networks in South Korea.
07. Seonsu is the Korean suffix commonly used when addressing athletes.
08. The Trophée Eric Bompard is one of the six events that count towards qualifications in the ISU Grand Prix of Figure Skating finals.
09. The choreographer interested to coach Baekhyun in the Olympics is Tatiana Tarasova. Between them, her students have won a total of 7 medals in the Olympics, and 41 in European and World Championships.
10. ISU is short for the International Skating Union, the governing body for all disciplines of ice skating.
11. 4A is the name given to the quadruple axel, a jump element. To this date, no skater has ever succeeded in landing this jump successfully, be it in practice or at a competition.
12. Axels have an extra half-rotation compared to all other jumps in the ice skating discipline because skaters take off in a forward direction, but land backwards.
13. A cheated jump is when a skater performs the first or last rotation of their jump on the ice instead of in the air.
14. Michelle Kwan, an American ladies' singles skater, was famous for her signature move, of sorts - a spin combination of two Y spins with a change of foot.
15. The 2018 Winter Olympics is slated to be held in Pyeongchang, South Korea.
16. The author does follow figure skating, but it is an admittedly very technical sport with a lot of terms. Throughout the process of writing this fic, this guide proved extremely helpful and comprehensive, so you can take a look if you want to familiarise yourself more with the terms used in the fic!
Its owner, an admittedly eccentric but very passionate young man had once told Baekhyun that natural light was both the cafe's concept and namesake. The walls aren't brick or plaster; they're made of hardy laminated glass, perfect for maintaining the temperature indoors no matter what the season. As he pushes open the door to the standalone cafe, Baekhyun belatedly realises he's never gotten the name of the owner, but a glance at the counter tells Baekhyun he's not in at work today.
He nods a polite greeting at the barista and sidles over to a table near the corner of the cafe. It's always empty when he pays a visit, almost as if it's been kept for him, a solace and sanctuary all to himself. The view, though, is what Baekhyun appreciates most about this particular seat. From here, he can see the streets of Apgujeong stretching into corners and alleys and onto main roads as far as the eye can see, designer labels selling branded goods and office buildings towering into the air.
In spring, the trees lining the walkway come to life in full bloom, flowers of a hundred different colours deep-set against the rich green of its leaves, swaying gently in a breeze. Everything remains quite the same in summer, except there are a lot more children and teenagers out and about since they'd be on summer break. Ice-cream cones, shorts, sunglasses, a party vibe that inspires a little bit of rebellion compared to the more demure, delicate spring season. Yixing's always commented around July that Baekhyun's displayed a habit of choosing to practise and showcase faster, more upbeat songs. By the time autumn comes, the trees are golden and crimson fire, dew on the leaves twinkling like little jewels. He likes to think it's a representation of the flame that ignites in all figure skaters as the competitive season draws to its climax. Now, in winter, all arms have been laid bare.
Snow blankets everything from the streets to mailboxes to buildings, a white expanse that's strangely warm to Baekhyun. He's always felt more comfortable with the cold, after all. A waitress comes by to take his order, forcing Baekhyun to tear his gaze away from the footprints of different sizes in the snow. "Just a latte for me," he says with a smile. "Oh, I'm waiting for someone else and he should be coming soon, so black coffee for him."
He unwraps his scarf and drapes it on the back of his chair, drumming his fingers lightly against the wooden tabletop and observing the little potted plant by the side of his table, nearest to the window. One constant, one that would always stay the same no matter the season outside. "You've always liked doing that with your fingers," someone says, and Baekhyun can't help but smile as speak of the devil flashes through his head. Kyungsoo slides into the seat opposite him, similarly wrapped in a scarf and a thick, black coat dotted with tiny bits of snow.
Lightroom reminds Baekhyun of a lot of things. The glass reminds him of the display wall in his room; the view, of the yearly routine of a figure skater and the first time he visited Seoul after registering in competitive figure skating.
Being here like this reminds him of what once was.
"It's been a long time," Baekhyun blurts out. Silent understanding drifts through them both; they know he's not talking about the last time they met. He's talking about the last time they did anything like this.
Kyungsoo looks out the glass, twining his fingers together on the table in front of him. "It has. That's why I asked if everything's okay." There is an edge of concern in his voice, one that Kyungsoo hasn't ever been able to properly conceal despite his occasionally abrasive attitude.
Yes, is the obvious answer hovering on the edge of Baekhyun's lips. Everything is fine; he'd just won his third consecutive world title and he's being offered tutelage by one of the most successful choreographers in modern day ice skating disciplines. It feels like it's trying to stop itself from falling off the edge of the precipice, though, because the answer never comes. There it is again, the small voice in the back of his head, buried in an archive of sorts. Is everything fine? Are you sure? Is this fine? Are you fine? When Kyungsoo pins him with a gaze that's part demanding and part concerned, Baekhyun seems to have lost the answer.
Instead, he says, "I don't have to be not fine to ask to meet, right?"
Kyungsoo's soft gaze, framed by dark lashes, is the only answer he gets. The unspoken continuation, though, lingers in the air between them like a cloud of mist, dispersed only when the waitress returns to the table with Baekhyun's order. No, you don't have to. But we've gone so long without meeting off the ice. What changed?
The silence between them continues, and Baekhyun feels like he's walking on a path made of glass. Like it could shatter any moment and he could fall, fall, fall, but for some reason, he doesn't quite mind. Kyungsoo places both hands around his mug, warming his fingers, before bringing the rim to his lips. Baekhyun does the same, eyes alternating from resting on the cold, heavily snow-covered streets outside and the warm, light familiarity inside.
Kyungsoo purses his lips, as if considering something he should say. The directness of his gaze is in stark contrast with the fidgeting of his fingers around the handle of his coffee mug. "I'm going to start practising for the Winter Olympics," he says, after a while. The tone of his voice sounds so much like Yixing's, it hits Baekhyun right in the chest, with the force of a whirlwind. Anticipation, aspiration, eagerness, all wrapped up in a burgeoning blanket of caution and steadiness, almost as if to break the news slowly. "I have two choreographers who told Ryeowook-hyung they want to work with me."
Baekhyun twists and turns the name over in his head, trying to recall who it is, when he remembers it's the name of the coach who's been working with Kyungsoo ever since the start of his career. Kim Ryeowook, the world champion whose promising career came to an abrupt end when he suffered a back injury that rendered him incapable of ever skating again. Much like Yixing and Baekhyun, he'd handpicked Kyungsoo from a local competition and polished him into the accomplished athlete he is today; Kyungsoo remains Ryeowook's only protégé to this day. On hindsight, he's the only one Ryeowook ever really needs to leave the smashing impact on the figure skating world that he'd once dreamt of doing.
"That's great," Baekhyun says genuinely. He always knew Kyungsoo would make it to the highest of podiums in this discipline; he'd never once doubted it.
The dark eyes staring at him like a hawk's, watching for the slightest movement, finds its prey. "I'm sure you've been asked about the Olympics as well. We missed the last one for the same reason." Baekhyun often forgets that this unusually accurate understanding they have of each other works both ways. It's highly likely Kyungsoo would be able to match him in a fact-for-fact showdown, and even likelier that Kyungsoo would be able to read the emotions behind little flickers in his eyes and the shifting of his arms. Kyungsoo capitalises on his silence. "That's why you're not fine. You're worried about the Olympics."
Soft laughter trickles out of Baekhyun's lips, into his coffee cup, onto the table and the floor. "Yeah," he admits, feeling the same things he told Yixing yesterday bubbling in his throat. "The Olympics... it's everything I've ever worked for. I don't want to fuck this up before I know I'm ready for sure. I can't do that to myself."
For a while, the only sounds around them are the soft chattering of other patrons, the clinking of mugs and plates at the counter, the soft whirr of the coffee machine. The door opens and closes; someone's just left. Kyungsoo runs a finger along the mouth of his cup and leans in on his elbows. "If you spend all your time thinking about how you're not ready, you won't have enough time to focus on how ready you really are."
The quietness of his words travel back the same path Baekhyun's laughter came from - across the table, past his coffee cup, onto his lips, down his throat and into his chest. Kyungsoo's general demeanour has always been different from his hard-hitting precision on the ice; he's more laid-back, preferring to watch something from the sidelines instead of being directly involved. Whenever they walked along the Han River, Kyungsoo would stay further from the bank than Baekhyun. He'd always liked the safety of the footpath more. People always say it wouldn't do to dwell on the past than look to the future. But when the future's so uncertain, hiding behind a blizzard, who's to blame him for wanting to turn back on the safe road he's trekked?
"I know. I just... I need more time to think about it. If I'm going," he pauses, to find the right words, "I want to be the best there ever was. I want to do something no one's done before. Like... a quadruple axel or something."
Kyungsoo eyes him warily. "No one's ever landed a quadruple axel before. You'd be crazy to try it."
Just like that, a smile finds its way to Baekhyun's lips again, as easy as it used to, just like how Kyungsoo's words are being less formal, more truthful now. He still feels like he's trying to keep distance, but he's taken a small step forward, has outstretched his hand. Lightroom's always felt like home, and never more than now. "You know I've always been kinda crazy."
"You've always been that loony guy." Kyungsoo finally gives in, the corners of his lips twitching upwards as he glances down at his cup, and then back up at Baekhyun. "Crazy for stupid things like cotton candy and the ice."
Nine years of keeping their distance melts away like snow as winter edges into the beginnings of spring's warmth. Baekhyun would like to say nothing's changed, but time doesn't work that way. Some things have changed. Baekhyun feels his heart skip a beat when he wonders if what's changed are the important things. "Nine years, Kyungsoo," he says, so, so softly. "Do you feel like we've picked up where we left off?"
He was thirteen, then, and Kyungsoo was twelve. To teenage boys fresh out of their hometown in Bucheon, being introduced to the bustling city of Seoul so suddenly felt too daunting. There were too many cars and buildings and businessmen, not enough sea breeze and trees and friendly neighbourhood traders. But there was the ice, and maybe that could be enough. When they met, introduced to each other at the local skating rink by their new coaches in the hopes of easing them into Seoul life more easily, they began spending hours talking about the bays at home, fishing season, the small festivals they had every month. Baekhyun liked regaling tales of fishing exploits with his father and Baekbeom; Kyungsoo told him about the vegetables he helped his mother plant. They were each other's piece of home.
Coming of age is more than just growing older, Baekhyun came to learn; coming of age is growing up. It's knowing what to win and what to lose, when to do it, and seeing sacrifices through. They were still young, and didn't quite understand what it was they were losing and what they were winning, and the exponential price they would have to pay. Baekhyun left for Toronto the same week Kyungsoo moved to Los Angeles; the weekend before, they'd shared a laugh about the fact that they barely spoke English and the amount of money they wouldn't mind spending to write letters to each other the good old-fashioned way.
Weeks passed. Weeks turned into months, months into years, years into the void. No letters were written.
When next they'd met, at the Junior World Figure Skating Championships, Baekhyun was fifteen, determined, and lost. He greeted Kyungsoo with a simple hi, nothing more, and received the same in response. The number of words they exchanged increased with the years, but it's nothing like they used to share. Nothing like all the times Baekhyun called Kyungsoo a stuck-up asshole and Kyungsoo calling him crazy.
Nothing like what could be now.
"Why didn't you write to me?" Kyungsoo's questions breaks through Baekhyun's reverie. "Why do we have a point where we 'left off' in the first place?"
Baekhyun looks down at the table, attempting to buy some time, but all he realises is their proximity and how close they are. They've both leaned forward over the small table at some point in the discussion, and Baekhyun can see that Kyungsoo's fingers are resting flat on the table, spread slightly, almost as if waiting for someone to fill the gaps for him. They have a lot of answers they need; he knows as much. "The training regime... it was crazy. I came home every day and all I could do was collapse and sleep. I had no river to walk by at night," he says. Nine years worth of an answer feels like it's just left the weight in his chest. "I had no one to walk with."
When he lifts his gaze up to meet Kyungsoo's, he isn't sure what he sees. There's a mix of regret and gratefulness, restraint and relief, sadness and happiness. "Same here. We were young and it was going to be our careers. I guess... I guess we were both just waiting for each other."
There is no to write to finish the sentence.
(As if he's just remembered something, Kyungsoo blinks down at the cup in front of him. "You remembered. You remembered how I liked my coffee, even back when we were kids and we weren't even supposed to be drinking that," he says slowly, surprise evident in the lines of his face and the crinkle of the corners of his eyes.
Baekhyun smiles brightly enough for the both of them. "I did.")
✧
"Stop, stop!"
Frustration cuts into Baekhyun's skin like a hot knife through butter. Yixing is rarely ever distressed, which leaves Baekhyun grappling with loose ends when he is; things are harder to handle if they've never been experience before. "You can't keep trying to do two Y spins with a change of foot! Michelle Kwan did that all the time and it was dandy for her, but we've discussed this and it looks really weird in this draft routine," Yixing says sternly, arms crossed over his chest. "I know I always give you free reign with your choreography, but you've never tried to suggest something like this before. This part is something you can mess around with, but don't suggest something you know isn't going to work."
The edge in his voice makes Baekhyun flinch. They've been at this for an hour and they're barely twenty seconds into the routine. "What about a Biellmann?" he asks, wiping sweat off his brow.
Yixing consults the piece of paper in his hand before answering. "You have a Biellmann later, but I guess we can change that. Unless you want to do switch your jump and spin combinations and do the jumps here, spins later?" Baekhyun watches a sketch of his routine unfold in his head as he thinks it through. He's suggested replicating everything renowned skaters are famous for - the double Y spins, the death drop - but nothing seems to be sticking. He can't be frustrated at Yixing either, because he knows everything Yixing's said so far is right.
Baekhyun squares his shoulders, wets his lips. If he's going to be practising for the Olympics, he might as well go all out. "I'll do my jumps first. Quadruple axel, double Salchow or loop," he says, determinedly. The hardness in his voice surprises even him; it's a hardness that tells of the hours he's thought about doing this. He doesn't have to replicate his seniors. He'll outdo them.
"Baekhyun," Yixing calls his name almost disbelievingly. "No one's ever landed a 4A."
"I'm going to the Olympics." His voice drops to a quiet challenge, almost as if daring anyone to say otherwise. It's trembling, though. Baekhyun isn't sure if it's fear, or the sheer strength of how much he wants this. "If I'm gonna be taking part, I need to shine. I need something that'll help me pull ahead of everyone else and make a banging entry, Xing."
Out of all the jumps, Baekhyun's always felt an affinity for the axel. It's half a rotation more than the other jumps, half a challenge more. With this, he has a chance of going down in history, of topping scoreboards he'd only ever dreamt of conquering. His heart is hammering in his chest in anticipation, a messy, mismatched rhythm with his heavy breathing. Surely, Yixing would say yes, surely.
"I won't stop you from trying," he finally allows, in an even voice that's more dissatisfied than consenting. "But if you start hurting yourself from the falls, I'm pulling the move out. I don't care how upset it makes you. You are not injuring yourself, no matter what it's for." It's not much of a seal of approval, but it's as close to a yes as Baekhyun knows he's going to get at this point in time.
He nods and makes for a round on the ice again to pick up speed for the jump. Ideally, skaters should have as much speed at entrance as they should in exit, and if he's to attempt another complete, clean rotation in the air before landing, Baekhyun realises he needs to go a little faster. The blades of his skates start to feel like they're under strain, cutting deeper into the ice than they should, but it's no matter. Baekhyun takes a deep breath, pictures the axel and Salchow clearly in his head, takes the jump.
Soaring clean into the air, he folds his arms inward to concentrate the mass of his body towards the jump's axis, and begins to count between the seconds.
One, one half, two, two half, three, three half, four-
Blinding pain punches him in the side with the force of a mailed fist as he tumbles onto the ice in an ungraceful heap, landing on his hipbone. "Fuck," he hisses between gritted teeth, clutching his waist as he climbs back onto his skates. Pressing his fingers tentatively against the cotton of his shirt, he grimaces when the fabric makes contact with his skin. It's going to be the first of many bruises, none of them pretty. He jams the toe pick of his right skate into the ice to steady himself as he deals with the rotational inertia of attempting so many turns in the air, and waits for the throbbing in his side to ebb. "Fuck, that hurt."
"Are you okay?" Panic bubbles through every syllable of Yixing's words like a dam that's just exploded.
"'m fine!" he answers with as much normalcy as he can muster, turning away and skating in the opposite direction to hide his grimace. It's nothing he hasn't dealt with before; the first few days he attempted to do a quadruple lutz had all ended in disaster, but it still hurts.
Fall after fall after fall he takes, and Baekhyun starts to count the hours that have passed by the number of falls he suffers instead of the minutes and seconds. His hip, thighs and back feel absolutely shattered, each jolt of pain sharper than the last, cruel tendrils puncturing his skin and clawing it black, blue and green. At the speed he has to go at to even stand a chance of pulling off the 4A without accidentally cheating a jump, the tumbles he takes are harder than usual, the ice coming up to meet his body. But with each time he falls, he forces himself to his feet, even though it takes a longer time to recover with each succeeding collision with the ground. No pain, no gain.
He isn't even sure what time it is anymore when Yixing calls out a strangled, "Okay, that's enough, stop."
Moisture from the ice is seeping into Baekhyun's shirt. This time, he'd stumbled and landed on his left shoulder, and that, too, is burning. Yixing hurries onto the ice and helps him up, guiding him by the arm back to solid ground. As he takes off his skates in slow, disjointed movements, he wriggles his toes a little bit, and he's not sure if he should be happy they're not hurting after prolonged hours in his skates, or mildly alarmed that he can't quite feel them anymore. "You're going to end up killing yourself," Yixing reprimands. He's angry, Baekhyun realises, as angry with Baekhyun's stubbornness as he is with himself, for ever giving him the green light in the first place, no matter how reluctant. Baekhyun knows Yixing will never be able to full-on yell at him for this, though, because it's his determination and strive for success that caught Yixing's eye in the first place. "Look at you, you're battered. Stop this, okay? You're not doing that quadruple axel. You can try doing a triple/triple loop combination; you've done it in competition before, but that was a long time ago and you took a deduction for that uneven landing. I'd rather you practise that and know you have a chance of succeeding, rather than doing this and watch you fall for hours on end."
Baekhyun can feel his knees have been grazed from the multiple abrasions. But it's nothing, it doesn't even hurt, compared to his wounded pride. "Rome wasn't built in a day," he mumbles. "I can try tomorrow."
"Yes." To Baekhyun's surprise, Yixing agrees, but the agreement is short-lived. "Yes, you can, and you have another day's worth of chances to break something or be out of the remainder of this season with an injury. You've sprained your waist before. Don't aggravate the risks of it happening again."
"Xing-"
Abruptness has never been in Yixing's nature, so Baekhyun is taken aback when Yixing cuts him off. "I know you. I've worked all these years with you, and I know what you're capable of. I know how far you can push yourself. This isn't going to work." The admonishment in his last sentence comes gently, almost as if a kind tone would be able to soften the blow of breaking reality to him. Deep down, Baekhyun knows he's right. He can feel futility blooming with each of the bruises he's received, each throbbing violently every time he puts weight on them or accidentally brushes them against something.
So he leaves Yixing with a goodbye brasher than he intended, but courtesy is not for tonight. All he wants to do is sleep this off, and maybe he'll come to terms with the fact that a triple/triple would be more beneficial in the long run instead of a smashing quadruple. Maybe.
There's a mild limp in his stride by the time he's walked the two streets back to his apartment with his trusty little luggage bag in hand. He used to have one that he hoisted onto his shoulder, but Soojung had claimed it was bad for body posture and had gotten him a trolley one two years ago for his birthday. It's hardy and just big enough for everything he usually brings along, plus it's light, so Baekhyun doesn't really have any complaints.
Sleep seems determined to escape his clutches a little longer, though, as the elevator doors part and Baekhyun rounds the corner to find someone waiting for him at his doorstep. Kyungsoo is dressed in a simple dark grey sweatshirt, skinny jeans and black Converse; Baekhyun can't quite recall if he's ever seen Kyungsoo wear bright colours off the ice. Even his skating outfits usually lean towards the darker, more muted side of the colour spectrum.
Kyungsoo opens his mouth to say something, but clamps his jaw shut again when he sees Baekhyun's hunched posture, watches the odd way he walks and his all-around lack of strength. "You tried doing the quadruple axel," he says. His voice lilts in a strange way, not because it's hammering home the fact that it was a ridiculous thing to attempt, but perhaps because there is genuine concern in his voice, one that Baekhyun hasn't ever heard before. It's not like he's ever needed to.
"I'm trying to do the quadruple axel," he corrects. "I haven't given up."
A derisive chuckle precedes a step forward from Kyungsoo, out from the shadows of the wall he was leaning against into the light of the hallway. The light bounces off his jaw and nose and lips, and Baekhyun wonders if his neck has always been so long, his jaw always so angular. Kyungsoo grips him by the arm, right on the bruise Baekhyun recalls getting somewhere between his thirtieth and fortieth fall. "Look at yourself," Kyungsoo whispers. "You're limping and you look like you've just risen from the grave. Don't rid yourself of the season; you still have other tournaments to compete in."
Baekhyun yanks his arm away, ignoring the soreness of the bruise and the pliable way Kyungsoo's fingers fall from his grip, like he's afraid of pushing too much, too hard. "Give me a break. You've had your fair share of falls practising a new move." He leans closer, barely breathing the words. "I won't hurt myself any more than I have to."
"And hurting yourself is a pre-requisite now? There are some things you just can't do."
Baekhyun rolls his eyes and pushes past Kyungsoo, his trolley bag coming to a skidding halt by the door as the fumbles for his keys in his pocket. "You never know until you try. Winners don't quit."
"Winners know when to stop, and when they're gonna bend so hard, they break. Winners know their limits."
"I wasn't aware that discouraging someone was the best approach to advising-"
"It's not like you actually listened to advice, anyway!"
"Why are you so bent on getting me not to do this jump?"
"I know you-"
Baekhyun whirls around so hard, hand flying off the handle of his door with a loud metallic sound, keys all but forgotten. "Shut up! You, of all people, have no right to say you know me." His shout dies down to a trembling hiss, words clear but voice losing itself in the sands of bitterness and disappointment in his throat. "You left me alone and I've changed since then. You don't know me."
For half a heartbeat after he finishes, Baekhyun worries if he's woken up other tenants. It's a good, decent place to stay in, but the walls aren't exactly the most soundproof, especially if this is yelling in the middle of the night. At least, it feels like the middle of the night if he's measuring in bruise units; Baekhyun isn't wearing a watch and he can't be bothered to check his cellphone at the moment.
Kyungsoo's expression is such a flurry of emotion that it's become unreadable - there's shock, anger, disappointment, frustration, sadness. It's a lot of things that Baekhyun never really wants him to feel, ever. "You forget," he says, crossing the distance between them with measured steps. His breathing is steady, warm against Baekhyun's skin when he speaks. "I might not know the full extent of who you are now, but I knew you once. And if it's one thing I do know about you-" He lifts a tentative hand to Baekhyun's cheek, never quite touching the skin with his palm. Only Kyungsoo's fingers make contact, skating across the shell of his ear, the cut line of his jaw, the very edge of his lip. It reminds Baekhyun of the way somebody's fingers would roam over a map, not an old-timer trying to memorise it, but someone new who hasn't ever seen it, basking in new knowledge and admiration, harbouring a sense of sadness for what's been lost. "-is that you never really change much."
The cold metal of the handle pushes against Baekhyun's back as he takes deep breaths, but he's fairly certain the oxygen isn't reaching him. Kyungsoo's close now, so close, and Baekhyun can hear him as loud as day even if he's whispering. "Don't do this to yourself. Don't do this to me. I know you have your dreams, but... not at the expense of you getting hurt. I don't want you hurt." Baekhyun's gaze falls onto Kyungsoo's lips; they're trembling with an effort, some kind of effort, and it's never felt quite so tempting to lean in and kiss someone's worries away.
Like a strip of silk in the night, Kyungsoo pulls his hand back from his skin so lightly, all that's left is a wisp of the touch. Something ruffles and crunches in the night, and Baekhyun feels his hands instinctively closing around the bundle being pressed to his chest. It's a plastic bag.
"Good night, Baekhyun."
Kyungsoo has to round the corner before his cheek begins to heat, the ghost of Kyungsoo's touch haunting his skin. Cautiously, he looks down and peers into the plastic bag. Two cups of ramyeon stare back up at him like red eyes on an albino tiger. The memory hits him with the force of a trainwreck; the nights they snuck out to the convenience store to eat junk food even if they weren't supposed to, Baekhyun spending an hour or two laughing at the way Kyungsoo's face turns red whenever he gets coaxed into eating curry ramyeon. Just like old times.
When Baekhyun opens one of the cups at the dining table later (it's one in the morning, his wall clock says), he finds it doesn't taste all that great anymore. Perhaps it's just the years he's spent away in Canada, or perhaps it's the lack of company.
Baekhyun can't find it in himself to finish it.
✧
The next day comes with its fair share of falls, but not that many, and none as painful as the haul from the day before. Baekhyun had told Yixing first thing in the morning that he would be okay if the quadruple axel ultimately didn't come through to the final routine, and that a combination of two triple loops would be more than a fair substitute. He decides to go with jumps first, spins later, though; he already has an idea for a combination and preceding connecting steps. Yixing's never been too good with masking emotion, if the surprise on his face was anything to go by, but he was also visibly relieved that Baekhyun had come around. Since Baekhyun already took a beating from the ice, Yixing joked that he wouldn't have to do it himself. After two hours' worth of morning practice (substantially harder, given the bruises he'd received), Yixing opted to cut training short for the day and spend the other half shortlisting music to work with for next season's routines, as well as the Olympics'.
But like most days where he gets let off early, either for an appointment or just as a treat, Baekhyun always feels somewhat incomplete, like there's a part of his day he hasn't quite lived yet. More than once, especially nearing competition time when Yixing just bunks over to save time and money commuting, he's caught Baekhyun sneaking off with his skates and a fresh set of clothes in tow, headed for the rink at "goodness knows what hour it is right now".
It's two thirty in the morning today, according to Baekhyun's watch. He's grateful that the rink here is kept open all through the night; he's even made friends with the kindly security guard that usually has the night watch. He doesn't know what he'd do to brush away the unsettled feeling he always gets when he doesn't skate enough for a day, otherwise. Soojung had, on more than one occasion and none too softly, complained about how far the nearest skating rink is from the apartment unit she shares with her sister.
The lights are as bright as ever, the skating rink just as cold. There aren't usually too many other people even during the day, but at night, tranquility and quiet seem to float around with the very particles of the air he's breathing. It's a strange form of meditation, kind of. He laces up his skates, pulls on a jersey hoodie over his tank top and makes it onto the ice in record time. The bruises around his waist still hurt, but it's made a lot better being in the skating rink than off it. Baekhyun as steady a skater as they come, but there'll always be a feeling of unbalance; he is, ultimately, standing on a slippery floor with two thin blades of metal. The unbalance is more anchoring than the stability of solid ground.
Baekhyun laughs bitterly. Kyungsoo was right. Nothing changes much with him.
Kyungsoo. The name comes to him with so much familiarity and so much regret, the emotions feel like tidal waves. He wonders if he'd put an end to their friendship of over a decade with the way they'd argued last night, if Kyungsoo would ever even want to salvage the splinters of the bridge he'd broken. Baekhyun ultimately decides that nothing good will come out of dwelling on this at this time; he could worry about it in the morning, and every morning after.
Tonight, he's here to skate.
Not as a professional athlete, not as reigning world champion, not as a potential Olympic medallist, but just as Byun Baekhyun, as the six-year-old who first felt what it was like to move on the ice, as the ten-year-old who skated alone at the unpopular ice skating rink back home every day after school, without inhibitions or expectations.
He fishes out his iPod and puts it on loudspeaker, scrolling through the tracks for something he feels like skating at this point in time. It's true, Baekhyun supposes, what they say about solitude not being for the weak; it emboldens you, inspires a sense of freedom that pushes you to do something you would never otherwise do. Throughout his career, he's only ever skated to a Korean song once; that was the year he won his first Grand Prix title. He presses play, and kicks off onto the ice.
Some things stay with you no matter how much time has passed, and this routine is one of them. Baekhyun still remembers every sidestep, every turn, every little thing he paid attention to during the championships all those years ago. The climax of the song, the last chorus, is a spin combination - a donut spin that ends in a Biellmann, a combination that Baekhyun has since frequently incorporated into his routines to fully maximise the length and curve of his limb extension.
It was one of his more artistic choreographies, Baekhyun recalls, as he finishes his routine just in time with the music, hands crossed over his chest and tucked in, head angled to face the floor instead of the audience. He almost wishes he could skate to this again, and considers asking Yixing if they could do anything with this song; perhaps new steps, an entirely different feel compared to this sorrowful one. Maybe something more free.
"Your Biellmann needs some work. It was a bit off-centre."
Not even in his wildest dreams did Baekhyun think he'd hear that voice again so soon, at least not tonight. Do Kyungsoo is standing by the entrance, almost blending in with the black door in his dark getup. He peels away from the door and starts descending the steps, and Baekhyun can see that he's brought his skates too, tied up in a drawstring bag over his shoulder. "Kyungsoo," he breathes, as if the illusion will break if he's any louder and Kyungsoo might disappear. "What're you doing here? At this time?"
The smile that graces Kyungsoo's lips is painful in its gentility, light reaching his brown eyes. Baekhyun feels his heart clench in his chest a little bit. "I was watching an old friend of mine skate," he says, pausing to lace on his skates and leaving Baekhyun in silence. He only continues once he's on the ice, the relaxation in his body apparent as he sinks into familiar territory. "It was something I've missed."
"Look, I'm sorry about yesterday..." Baekhyun begins.
Kyungsoo comes to a halt in front of him, gaze boring into Baekhyun, drinking him in. The stop is as light and delicate as a dandelion; it's another thing Baekhyun's always noticed, even back when they were still training for entry into the competitive circuit. Kyungsoo's skating is hard-hitting accuracy and technique-oriented, but his stops are so light, they feel fluid and natural. Baekhyun's strength lies in his effortless grace on the ice, yet his breaks are heavy-handed, almost forceful, to make up for the little extras in his jump height and speed.
"Don't be. I know you were upset," Kyungsoo answers, with a slight shake of his head. Baekhyun wants to reach out to him, grab him by the shoulders and tell him that he should be angrier, or maybe touch him the same way Kyungsoo did yesterday, trace the shape of his nose and mouth with his fingers. He can't decide, so he settles for the in-between, hands loosely balled into fists at his side and breathing deep, watching Kyungsoo's every movement.
Kyungsoo's always been strangely unperturbed under the weight of Baekhyun's stare. He's always gazed back with equal intensity, a jumble of emotions waiting to be deciphered behind the veil of his dark eyes. "You should've seen yourself skate." He gestures to the ice around them. "This is where you belong. You skate best when you don't think about anything but skating. You skate best," he pauses and grins, "when you think no one is watching."
"Why do you know so much about me?" The rhetorical question Baekhyun asks is met with soft laughter from them both.
"I just do."
There it is again: that hesitancy, the slight uncertainty that sends little shivers up Baekhyun's spine. He's fought pain, fought disappointment; he decides he can fight this, too. Slowly, as if not to disturb the balance they've come to attain, he rests a hand against Kyungsoo's cheek, brushing circles into the skin with his thumb. He wonders if Kyungsoo feels the same burn that he did, and moves his hand to settle on the back of Kyungsoo's nape, pulling him close, close, closer.
Kyungsoo's even steadier than Baekhyun usually is on the ice, but his fingers close over Baekhyun's sweater, gaze flickering upward in an almost shy manner that was strangely un-Kyungsoo. He isn't afraid, just... Baekhyun can't quite put a name to it. It's almost like Kyungsoo's living something he's only ever dreamt of, and can't quite believe it. "You always fly so close to the sun," he mumbles, breath blowing gently against Baekhyun's face. They're inches away now, only a tilt of the head away. His hand is resting just above the biggest bruise blooming on Baekhyun's waist, as if by instinct, even if he can't see it. "You need to take care of your wings once in a while. They could burn."
Baekhyun can feel the flutter of Kyungsoo's eyelashes against his face. It's all it takes to brush his doubts away. "Falling doesn't sound so bad."
"You saved yourself just in time today. You didn't fall."
Kyungsoo's lips are soft and pliant beneath the pad of his thumb. The slight exhale tickles Baekhyun's skin; the scent, the feeling, everything, it's all so heady. He feels almost drunk, like someone else has taken control of the words he's saying. "You're wrong," he murmurs. "I've been falling for a long time now. I hit the ground really hard recently."
"Don't say that, you-"
"I've been falling for you."
The fit of their mouths and bodies are perfect. Kyungsoo's fingers tangling and tugging at his hair feel better than any finished routine, the taste of his tongue and lips sweeter than any gold medal. The kiss feels like a trigger to a joint fall, for lack of a better word to call it, slowly edging towards the precipice, pushing, pulling, closer and closer and then falling off it all at once. He's always had an affinity for the cold, but warmth doesn't seem all that bad now, not when it's from the press of Kyungsoo's lips, the pads of Kyungsoo's fingers. Baekhyun chases after Kyungsoo's lips, kiss after kiss after kiss, an intoxication he never wants to cure. Kyungsoo finally stops him with a breathless laugh, but he doesn't pull away, kept in place by Baekhyun's hands and breathing against his lips. "It's good to know I wasn't the only one falling all these years. Nine years is a long way down."
Baekhyun sounds just as out of breath as Kyungsoo, like they'd both run a marathon. In retrospect, they probably have - running from the beginning to the end, and then to the middle, to finish what they started, except on a different route. "And here I thought I'd ruined nine years of friendship."
"You did." Kyungsoo's lips curve upward when they meet Baekhyun's in another kiss. "We're something more now."
✧
The roar of the crowd is nothing short of deafening. It feels like he's drowning, with the sound of waves splitting against the rocks beating at his ears. Baekhyun adjusts the delegates' sweater he's wearing; it's a cool night in Pyeongchang, and if he cranes his neck to look up in this cramped space, squished against a hundred other people, he can see the stars. They look like white glitter on black ice.
He can barely hear the beating of his own heart, but a mouth presses lightly against the shell of his ear. Kyungsoo is smiling at him, wearing matching clothing, just as overwhelmed by the prospects of all this as he is excited. Over the tops of people's heads, he can see the stands thronging with people, the signature colours of the Olympic logo all around the stadium, a gleaming, giant goblet at the far end of the stadium for the opening ceremony. The small, intimate gesture goes unnoticed in the chaos, and Kyungsoo beckons him closer again. "Ready?" he asks, half-yelling the question, a hand wrapped gently around Baekhyun's wrist.
Baekhyun smiles and half-yells back. "As I'll ever be."
one | two | extras
NOTES:
01. The men's singles gold medallist in the 1997 World Figure Skating Championships - the tournament that first inspired Baekhyun to take up figure skating - was Canada's Elvis Stojko. The actual silver medallist was Todd Eldredge, from the USA.
02. Skaters competing in the men's and women's singles at the World Juniors must be at least 13 years of age but not yet fully 19 before the previous July 1.
03. In sports, including figure skating, a podium finish means being either the gold, silver or bronze medallist.
04. Counter-clockwise jumpers are relatively rare in the figure skating industry; for them, revolving in the air is done in a counter-clockwise direction. Most skaters are clockwise jumpers.
05. This fic is set in the year 2015. The ISU World Figure Skating Championships are held in Shanghai this particular year.
06. MBC is the short form for Munhwa Broadcasting Corporation, one of four major national broadcasting networks in South Korea.
07. Seonsu is the Korean suffix commonly used when addressing athletes.
08. The Trophée Eric Bompard is one of the six events that count towards qualifications in the ISU Grand Prix of Figure Skating finals.
09. The choreographer interested to coach Baekhyun in the Olympics is Tatiana Tarasova. Between them, her students have won a total of 7 medals in the Olympics, and 41 in European and World Championships.
10. ISU is short for the International Skating Union, the governing body for all disciplines of ice skating.
11. 4A is the name given to the quadruple axel, a jump element. To this date, no skater has ever succeeded in landing this jump successfully, be it in practice or at a competition.
12. Axels have an extra half-rotation compared to all other jumps in the ice skating discipline because skaters take off in a forward direction, but land backwards.
13. A cheated jump is when a skater performs the first or last rotation of their jump on the ice instead of in the air.
14. Michelle Kwan, an American ladies' singles skater, was famous for her signature move, of sorts - a spin combination of two Y spins with a change of foot.
15. The 2018 Winter Olympics is slated to be held in Pyeongchang, South Korea.
16. The author does follow figure skating, but it is an admittedly very technical sport with a lot of terms. Throughout the process of writing this fic, this guide proved extremely helpful and comprehensive, so you can take a look if you want to familiarise yourself more with the terms used in the fic!