Chapter Text
Zhenya sat beside Yulia at the bench outside the rink. She sipped on her iced coffee, passing the time. She felt lighter today, strange enough, as if the tensions in her chest were relieving itself. She had to give it her all, her very best, if she wanted to beat Zagitova. Zhenya knew she had it in her; after all, she had a few years on her. How much more difficult could it get when she was winning competition after competition already?
"So," Yulia started, her tone almost teasing. "You're not complaining about Alina anymore." She stated, a small smirk curling on her lips.
"Is this a start to a newfound friendship, Zhenya?"
Zhenya scoffed; she could pinpoint the mockery in her friend's voice. "I told you, she's not my friend--she's my rival. Don't you understand?"
She lightly nudged her friend's shoulder, hard enough to get the point across but light enough to draw a small giggle from her.
"You two are ridiculous, don't you know that?" Yulia mocked, her laughter could almost be heard from across the rink. "Seriously, just kiss already."
Zhenya froze. She felt her cheeks heating up far too quickly for comfort. She nudged her harder this time, "Girls can't kiss each other, don't be ridiculous."
She repeated that line in her head like a mantra. How dare Yulia stoop to that level and suggest such explicit things? Her friend sure did have a mouth of her own. As much as it irritated her, she cherished that at times. Sure, it bothered her, but it made her laugh, and that means far more.
"It was just a joke, Zhenya!" She crackled.
Zhenya shot her a cold glare and then stood to meet her coach on the rink. She was practicing her program today. But she couldn't focus, not when Yulia was leaving for the Olympics in just a few months. She missed her. But Yulia had promised her everything would go back to normal when she won gold. Zhenya held onto that belief more than Yulia herself.
She glanced towards the window that led to the gym — her eyes found Alina and Daniil training off-ice jumps.
"Evgenia," Eteri called, stealing her attention. "Start the program over. I told you to practice it in your off time; let me see how it paid off."
Eteri put the music on, and she stepped into the familiar movement. Pushing off the ice with a surprising force. She had memorized it to the smallest details the night before, so now it was time to apply her learning to the rink. The program was flawless. But good things didn't last, not when your mind refused to stay quiet.
Of course, her gaze flickered elsewhere, to the her rival and Daniil emerging from the gym. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt it throb.
Her edge wavered. Just slightly, but just enough to knock her off balance.
She landed roughly, nearly hitting the floor.
Her jaw tightened, and she prepared for the next jump. If Alina wanted this, then she swore she wouldn't back down.
She caught herself cleanly, almost perfect. If it wasn't for her heel dipping slightly to the right.
When the music paused, she glanced towards Eteri, who had a pleased expression on her face. She then looked back towards the pair of big brown eyes that grimaced at her.
----
Zhenya sat slumped against the wall. By the time practice was over, she had hardly any energy to tell Yulia about the competition. She knew her friend was probably brooding in the rink or swinging on the equipment--no, Yulia took everything too seriously ever since she began training for the Olympics.
She let out a small sigh and unlaced the strings in her skates, gently tossing them into her bag. Before Zhenya could even turn her head, she heard small ruffling coming from the far side of the locker room. As if a little rabbit snuck its way into the rink, she let out a small giggle.
Maybe it wasn't a bunny, maybe it was Alina, or Yulia, or even one of her coaches--she didn't care. Not when the exhaustion was far too overwhelming. It took all her willpower to even open her phone and text her mother to pick her up.
"You're taking the bus home today." She read the text from her mother. Zhenya almost felt as if she could slam her phone on the ground and trample it with her skates. She let out a long sigh of exhaustion.
She knew her home wasn't that far from the rink, but the exhaustion after practice made it feel like hours.
Zhenya pulled out her phone and checked the time. She had thirty minutes... before the bus arrived at Khrustanyl. Perfect, thirty sweet, perfect minutes to relax. She now lay flat on the bench; perhaps she would feel shame in sleeping like this at the facility if it wasn't so common. Here, in the locker room, she could close her eyes and feel no shame.
She could just so much as taste her program, feel it even--the cold air chilling her skin. The cheers and grins from the crowd. But the thing she cherished most of all in her unconscious state was Alina's narrowed eyes and strained expression. That was the memory she held onto the most.
Zhenya shifted, barely falling off the ledge but catching herself at the final moment; this was when the dream shifted.
This was no dream; this is real, she told herself. She was no longer in the locker room; she was curled up in an unfamiliar bed, beside an unfamiliar figure. Her eyes scanned over the comforting room, and the walls were a light shade of pink; they were lined with medals and trophies. They were also filled with posters of skaters and a few band posters.
She turned her attention to the bed where she lay; it was filled with small bear plushies. The room was mostly dark, except for the TV playing in the background, which illuminated the girl's figure. She had soft, fair skin where it touched and long, flowy brown hair. She slowly reached her hand out to tap the girl's shoulder. The girl turned her attention towards her; Zhenya blinked a few times. And it came to her attention that it was not some random girl who lounged beside her; it was Alina—that cheeky brat.
With a sudden, swift motion, Alina rested her palm on the side of her face and connected their lips together. Zhenya's face flushed, and her eyes widened. She took note of how she didn't feel the palm on her face, nor the taste of her lips.
"Alina," she muffled against her lips, her clammy hands pressing her shoulders--as if to push her away. But her protests dissolved in her mouth when the kiss deepened, and Alina's tongue slid in her mouth.
Zhenya felt a sudden tapping on her shoulder, and her eyes darted open. She let out a small sigh, as if in disappointment or relief she could not quite place.
Her eyes felt flat on Alina, glaring down on her with a small chuckle.
"Good dream?" Alina asked, almost mockingly. "You're all flustered and clammy."
Zhenya blinked a few times and jumped up. Her head felt as if she had been hit with a brick. She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "What time is it?" She muffled, weakly.
"The rink is closing, Zhenya." The younger girl started. "You're lucky I found you here, or you'd be trapped."
"Lord, now I know Zhenya likes to sleep at rinks and is a heavy sleeper--who knows, maybe I could sabotage you now before the competition now." She said, mischievously--unable to keep her laughter in check.
Alina babbled on and on for minutes, what felt like hours. Though Zhenya could only think about how messed up and disgusting her soul must be for having a "wet dream" with her, of all people, a girl?! Zhenya smoothed her hair out with her hand and let out an exasperated sigh. Seriously, what has gotten into her? How could she even stand before Alina now, after having such thoughts about her, let alone be her rival?
"You know, I thought I heard you mutter my name too," Alina giggled, meeting her gaze.
Zhenya jolted up again; her cheeks felt as if they were burning again. "Don't get so full of yourself," she muttered.
"Why look so flustered then, Zhenya, if you didn't?" She hummed innocently, stepping closer--too close for comfort.
Zhenya shot her a cold glare, shoving her back. "Whatever, we'd best go before the rink closed in on us."
Alina hummed in agreement and threw her bag over her shoulder.
Reality set in on Zhenya like a tidal wave. She missed the bus. Now what? She had no way home. She supposed she could walk, but it was almost pitch black, and she couldn't bother her mother, who was still at work.
"Do you always stay this late?" Zhenya asked, glancing towards her over her shoulder.
Alina nodded.
"How do you get home?"
"I just walk," She muttered, zipping her jacket up further.
Zhenya let out a small sigh. "Aren't you worried you'll get kidnapped or something?"
"No," she said, simply.
Zhenya pondered for a moment and walked with the girl. The wind was blowing white powder over the pair. The rest of the walk home was in pure silence, only broken by the faint sounds of blowing wind and cars.