On The Ice [2/?]
Title: On The Ice [2/?]
Author: my_life_myway33
Pairing: Gerard Way/Pete Wentz
Rating: NC-17
POV: Gerard’s
Word Count: 1,320
Summary: The world was his when he was on the ice.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me but the words and the plot.
Warnings: There’ll be sex in here eventually, I’m pretty sure…
Past Parts: Chapter 1 - Blood Battle
It had been several weeks since the last time I’d been on the ice, ever since my arm had been so kindly broken for me by a couple members of the football team. I hadn’t been able to skate, because it was so horridly painful, the first time I’d tried, a measly week after having my arm reset; I’d passed out cold in the middle of a spin and of course, landed on my arm, which hurt like hell when I woke up. My doctor had told me that I should be able to do some very simple things again by now and I was more than ready to try again.
As my blade touched the ice it was like I’d never had to stop. There was a feel to the ice, a familiarity I can’t truly do justice to. My skates glided over the still slightly wet surface of just resurfaced ice that glimmered in the huge lights above.
I circled the rink once and then twice, getting the feel of the rink. I knew every crack, patch of rough ice and the place where one of the hockey jerks had purposely chopped a hole just to show how manly they were. I started out small, just doing a few crossovers, which were simple movements to gain speed and to get around the curved part of the rink a must for speed, grace, and strength that I did as I went around the oval part of the rink. I balanced on my left foot for a brief second then stepped my right foot over the left and pushed off with my left foot. I began to pick up more speed and since my arm didn’t give out any kind of throbbing I decided to try an extra simple jump.
I started out with one more crossover, holding it with my right foot for a moment leaving my left foot in front, dangling in the air for just a moment then I smoothly swung it back, gliding up onto my toe pick with my smoothest of natural moves, jumped, gave a half spin and landed on my right toe pick perfectly. My arm mildly gave a complaint to the shock of the movement, but I was ok. If one looked closely, they would see a slight dint in the surface of the ice, but not to worry, the Zambonie would fill that in later. Lastly I swung my left foot out again to end in a smooth exit. It was perfect and wonderful and amazing and just like that I was back where I belonged and all my worries were gone.
Here, on freshly resurfaced ice is the only place I’ve ever belonged entirely. Here, on the wet slick ice I was graceful, I was perfect, I was beautiful and nobody hated me, nobody beat on me, nobody wanted of me. Here, I just was.
I listened to my blades slice over the ice, focused as my heart began to race perfectly and as my breathing picked up. I moved into one more crossover as you would take in your own breath.
Without even having to think about it I brought my arms straight out in front of me then crossed them over my chest, smoothly pushing them down just to test myself, make sure my form was right and that my arm would tolerate what I so desperately wished to do next.
I turned around so I was now skating backwards and moved into several backwards crossovers, finally holding the last one on my right foot for just a moment before stepping onto my left foot again, bringing my right foot into the air I slowly, with my right boot pressed against my hip, taking the time to revel in the feel of the weight there against my body for just a second and then threw myself into a very simple spin.
In my head I watched myself spin gracefully in close spirals and all my senses picked up on my spin. The sound my blades made cutting through the water-ice, the way my dress felt flaring up over my hips so beautifully, how my breath caught in my throat for the briefest of seconds and the way my heart beat in time with each full spin. I was finally in my own world.
I spent forever on that ice, letting my heart beat in time to the slicing of my blades, listening to my breath heaving my chest and letting my muscles flow into moves that were perfect and natural. I was meant for the ice, I was born for the ice and I would never surrender it, just as I would never surrender my own uniqueness.
As I moved into harder spins and even into jumps, tears streamed from my eyes, sliding off my cheeks, some of them freezing to my cheeks, to join the ice below my blades and I let them. The release of the skates brought forth feelings I did not need to name or label, I just felt. My mind was at last still of all thoughts and my body worked together so perfectly with each new move.
I would have spent all day on that ice if I could have, but as I came out of what felt like my millionth spin, and not at all dizzy, I felt a hard body ram into me sending me sliding across the entire rink on my ass, the ice instantly slicing into sensitive and exposed skin, rubbing my butt cheeks raw, making sure there would be a bruise for some time, killing any heat that I once had from working so hard.
The crash seemed to happen in slow motion. My body collided with the hard wall, my back making full contact then a second later my casted arm landing against the wall too. I felt my right blade slide down my left leg in a move that made me shudder violently.
The pain came moments later, as my body shook itself out of the world it had been in and back into a world it wished it never needed to inhabit. The first thing I felt was my back, pain shot straight down my spine with vicious sharpness. Then came my leg where my blade had connected. Then my arm gave a throbbing protest that made me cry out and lastly came my head as it connected with the wall as well.
I started crying now for a whole new reason as I looked up to try and see who’d rammed into me and I watched in horrific pain as my own brother laughed with his teammates and he looked at me with a glint in his eyes that told me it had been him. That, even more then the pain that shocked my system, had new tears streaming faster for brand new reasons. I sat on the ice and sobbed while my own flesh and blood skated by with the rest of his team.
I brought my broken arm slowly over my chest to cradle it and curled up a little to let the sobs take over me. I heard blades come up to me and stop next to me then felt more then saw a body crouch next to me, “Gerard? Are you okay?” I heard a voice that sounded so far off ask. I said nothing, I had nothing to say. No, that’s not true, I just didn’t know what to say and just kept sobbing. “Gerard?! You need to answer me!”
I heard the voice insist and I heard myself think, how does the voice know who I am?”. I still didn’t answer.
“Gerard?!” The voice said, louder this time, more firmly and then I felt a hand wrap, gently, around my unbroken arm and give me a careful shake, not enough to even move me, but enough for pain to overwhelm my every sense and black spots to form over my eyes.
I heard myself, as if I was miles away from my body, scream out in pain and it was the last thing I knew.
Author: my_life_myway33
Pairing: Gerard Way/Pete Wentz
Rating: NC-17
POV: Gerard’s
Word Count: 1,320
Summary: The world was his when he was on the ice.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me but the words and the plot.
Warnings: There’ll be sex in here eventually, I’m pretty sure…
Past Parts: Chapter 1 - Blood Battle
It had been several weeks since the last time I’d been on the ice, ever since my arm had been so kindly broken for me by a couple members of the football team. I hadn’t been able to skate, because it was so horridly painful, the first time I’d tried, a measly week after having my arm reset; I’d passed out cold in the middle of a spin and of course, landed on my arm, which hurt like hell when I woke up. My doctor had told me that I should be able to do some very simple things again by now and I was more than ready to try again.
As my blade touched the ice it was like I’d never had to stop. There was a feel to the ice, a familiarity I can’t truly do justice to. My skates glided over the still slightly wet surface of just resurfaced ice that glimmered in the huge lights above.
I circled the rink once and then twice, getting the feel of the rink. I knew every crack, patch of rough ice and the place where one of the hockey jerks had purposely chopped a hole just to show how manly they were. I started out small, just doing a few crossovers, which were simple movements to gain speed and to get around the curved part of the rink a must for speed, grace, and strength that I did as I went around the oval part of the rink. I balanced on my left foot for a brief second then stepped my right foot over the left and pushed off with my left foot. I began to pick up more speed and since my arm didn’t give out any kind of throbbing I decided to try an extra simple jump.
I started out with one more crossover, holding it with my right foot for a moment leaving my left foot in front, dangling in the air for just a moment then I smoothly swung it back, gliding up onto my toe pick with my smoothest of natural moves, jumped, gave a half spin and landed on my right toe pick perfectly. My arm mildly gave a complaint to the shock of the movement, but I was ok. If one looked closely, they would see a slight dint in the surface of the ice, but not to worry, the Zambonie would fill that in later. Lastly I swung my left foot out again to end in a smooth exit. It was perfect and wonderful and amazing and just like that I was back where I belonged and all my worries were gone.
Here, on freshly resurfaced ice is the only place I’ve ever belonged entirely. Here, on the wet slick ice I was graceful, I was perfect, I was beautiful and nobody hated me, nobody beat on me, nobody wanted of me. Here, I just was.
I listened to my blades slice over the ice, focused as my heart began to race perfectly and as my breathing picked up. I moved into one more crossover as you would take in your own breath.
Without even having to think about it I brought my arms straight out in front of me then crossed them over my chest, smoothly pushing them down just to test myself, make sure my form was right and that my arm would tolerate what I so desperately wished to do next.
I turned around so I was now skating backwards and moved into several backwards crossovers, finally holding the last one on my right foot for just a moment before stepping onto my left foot again, bringing my right foot into the air I slowly, with my right boot pressed against my hip, taking the time to revel in the feel of the weight there against my body for just a second and then threw myself into a very simple spin.
In my head I watched myself spin gracefully in close spirals and all my senses picked up on my spin. The sound my blades made cutting through the water-ice, the way my dress felt flaring up over my hips so beautifully, how my breath caught in my throat for the briefest of seconds and the way my heart beat in time with each full spin. I was finally in my own world.
I spent forever on that ice, letting my heart beat in time to the slicing of my blades, listening to my breath heaving my chest and letting my muscles flow into moves that were perfect and natural. I was meant for the ice, I was born for the ice and I would never surrender it, just as I would never surrender my own uniqueness.
As I moved into harder spins and even into jumps, tears streamed from my eyes, sliding off my cheeks, some of them freezing to my cheeks, to join the ice below my blades and I let them. The release of the skates brought forth feelings I did not need to name or label, I just felt. My mind was at last still of all thoughts and my body worked together so perfectly with each new move.
I would have spent all day on that ice if I could have, but as I came out of what felt like my millionth spin, and not at all dizzy, I felt a hard body ram into me sending me sliding across the entire rink on my ass, the ice instantly slicing into sensitive and exposed skin, rubbing my butt cheeks raw, making sure there would be a bruise for some time, killing any heat that I once had from working so hard.
The crash seemed to happen in slow motion. My body collided with the hard wall, my back making full contact then a second later my casted arm landing against the wall too. I felt my right blade slide down my left leg in a move that made me shudder violently.
The pain came moments later, as my body shook itself out of the world it had been in and back into a world it wished it never needed to inhabit. The first thing I felt was my back, pain shot straight down my spine with vicious sharpness. Then came my leg where my blade had connected. Then my arm gave a throbbing protest that made me cry out and lastly came my head as it connected with the wall as well.
I started crying now for a whole new reason as I looked up to try and see who’d rammed into me and I watched in horrific pain as my own brother laughed with his teammates and he looked at me with a glint in his eyes that told me it had been him. That, even more then the pain that shocked my system, had new tears streaming faster for brand new reasons. I sat on the ice and sobbed while my own flesh and blood skated by with the rest of his team.
I brought my broken arm slowly over my chest to cradle it and curled up a little to let the sobs take over me. I heard blades come up to me and stop next to me then felt more then saw a body crouch next to me, “Gerard? Are you okay?” I heard a voice that sounded so far off ask. I said nothing, I had nothing to say. No, that’s not true, I just didn’t know what to say and just kept sobbing. “Gerard?! You need to answer me!”
I heard the voice insist and I heard myself think, how does the voice know who I am?”. I still didn’t answer.
“Gerard?!” The voice said, louder this time, more firmly and then I felt a hand wrap, gently, around my unbroken arm and give me a careful shake, not enough to even move me, but enough for pain to overwhelm my every sense and black spots to form over my eyes.
I heard myself, as if I was miles away from my body, scream out in pain and it was the last thing I knew.