Archive of Our Own

don’t hold it against

my love

you know I wanna breath deeper than this

- Buddy Wakefield

Christophe goes home – home to his cat, to his own bed, to his glasses and sweaters and books and familiar Swiss French. He goes home and says goodbye to his coach on the airport of Genève, he goes home alone in the darkness of a winter evening.

He goes home without a gold medal, again. He goes home without a medal for the first time in years.

He goes home with a wedding invitation that has no date set yet and a promise of a best man’s duty.

It takes over an hour from the moment the plane lands for him to get home. The taxi-ride is silent apart from the radio playing songs he remembers from his teenage years. He doesn’t turn on his phone, hasn’t since the plane took off from Barcelona, and stares out of the window into the darkness, even takes his glasses off for a while to make the few lights blur. When the car drives into his home yard, he gets out quietly and drags his suitcase to the door, cat cage in his other hand. He sighs deeply as he unlocks the door and turns the alarm system off. The house is quiet; lifeless and comforting at the same time. He closes the door and sits down leaning against it. He opens the zipper of his jacket and digs his phone out of his pocket, but doesn’t bother getting out of his outerwear.

He turns the phone on and waits as it buzzes from messages and social media notifications. There’s one message that was there already when he turned his phone off, message that he has read from the notification but hasn’t opened.

Je t’aime, it says, with a period, no emojis or smileys or exclamation marks. I love you. Period. Typical of Stefan – simple and sincere. Je t’aime aussi, he finally types back, not even with a period, three hours after receiving the message. I love you too, left in the air with no ending. He remembers the conversation they had back at the hotel in Barcelona, only minutes before he had to leave to catch his plane.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Stefan asked as he watched Chris throw the last few things into his suitcase.

“I am”, Chris said, too tired to make it a joke again. He had slept six hours after the banquet, but they were from 8 am to 3 pm with an hour of sex somewhere in the middle, and didn’t really feel that refreshing. The banquet had been fun, almost as good as the one year before – only almost, since this time Yuuri and Victor spent more time making out than dancing. An after party was still and after party and champagne still champagne, so when he finally got back into his hotel room with the morning sun already rising, he had forgotten about the disappointments of the day and felt only happy. Stefan had went back to his room five hours earlier and not woken up when Chris crawled under the covers as close to him as possible. They woke up to a loud noise around eleven, Chris half drunk, half hangover and entirely horny, Stefan probably only horny based on his reaction to Chris’ suggestion. Afterwards, Chris fell back to sleep and only woke up when Stefan gently shake him up to finish packing.

Chris locked his suitcase and sat down on the bed next to it. He bit his lip, looking for words to explain why he really, really didn’t want Stefan to come home with him.

“I didn’t win”, he ended up saying.

“I know”, was all Stefan said, but his voice said more.

“I didn’t even get to the podium.”

“I know. You were still my mother’s favourite. She’s mad at the judges.”

Chris chuckled and glanced at Stefan, but turned serious again.

“Your mother doesn’t know about me.”

“My mother doesn’t know about Chris. She does know about Christophe Giacometti.”

Chris heard the I wish she did between the sentences and made a sound between a sigh and a snort.

“You knew I wasn’t exactly boyfriend material when you got into this.”

“I knew, and I know you think so. I still don’t agree.”

“I need some time alone.”

“I know.”

“I was supposed to win. I always lose to him and he wasn’t there. It was my turn.”

“I know.”

Chris loved Stefan for not needing names. He pitied Stefan for not needing names.

“He asked me to be his best man when they get married.”

“Congrats.”

“I really need to be alone for a while.”

“I understand.”

“I’ll call you when I… When.”

“Yeah. Call me.” Stefan put his hand on Chris’ shoulder and kissed his temple. The he grabbed his own suitcase, neatly packed hours ago already, and went to the door. He glanced at Chris, something nameless in the air between them, and then he was out.

 Chris sighs and gets up, finally getting out of his jacket and shoes. He lets his cat out of her cage and manages to give her a quick scratch before she runs away, enjoying her freedom. He leaves his suitcase at the door and follows the cat into the kitchen. He feeds her and makes himself a plateful on noodles, only human food he can find in the closets after competition season and days spent in hotels.

He likes spending time alone after competitions, it helps him calm down and refresh. Usually there is someone with him in the house – Stefan or his coach or, when he was younger, his parents – but he always sneaks out in the night to eat alone in the kitchen, remembering the competition and enjoying the silence. The familiarity of the situation makes him touch his chest looking for a medal to stroke, but this time there’s nothing.

He can’t even remember the last competition he left without a medal at all. He’s been getting silver after silver with an occasional bronze in the middle for years already, always standing next to Victor on the podium.

It’s been almost a year since Victor announced his retirement, and Chris still doesn’t know whether he’s happy or not about it. Now it seems he doesn’t even have to, with Victor coming back already.

When he first heard the news, it was a mix of shock and disappointment – shock, because who would have thought Victor would actually give up his career at the peak of it, let alone for a Japanese skater who messed up his last competition and almost retired himself. Disappointment, because Victor didn’t tell Chris privately before announcing it to the world. And here Chris had thought they were friends.

(They were friends. They are friends. But between fucking after competitions and not always talking to each other in between them it is a bit complicated.)

Unlike Yuuri Katsuki, Chris did remember the last year’s banquet – so maybe he shouldn’t have been as shocked as he was. He also remembers worrying about Victor during the last season, Victor smiling less and joking less and kissing with less enthusiasm. Kissing less. He remembers Victor smiling genuinely for the first time during the whole Grand Prix in the banquet, when he was dancing with Yuuri, and he definitely remembers Victor’s smitten face after the party. Chris even remembers Yuuri actually asking Victor to become his coach. He just hadn’t for a moment believed that Victor would even consider something as foolish as that.

After he had called Victor and gotten something close to an explanation, the disappointment had turned into careful hopefulness and the shock into determination. In the last year’s Grand Prix he had lost only to Victor. With no Victor skating this year, there was no one ahead of him. This would be his year, the year he could finally show the world that if the fucking demigod Victor Nikiforov who shined star-like, ethereal beauty with his every movement did not exist, the greatest skater of a generation would be no one else than Christophe Giacometti. He had the skill and the looks, he had great choreographies and trust in himself, he had everything one should need to be at the top of the skating world.

And then he went and become fifth. Only one point ahead of the last one, thirty points behind the lowest podium, almost fifty points behind the winner.

Maybe he is getting too old.

(Victor is two years older and coming back.)

However, he is not as surprised as he is disappointed at the result. The shock turned into determination hadn’t lasted that long – practising without fantasising about beating Victor didn’t feel as good. He loves skating, yes, he lives for skating, but he found himself completely lacking motivation to win anyone else. He has won everyone else already, except the ones he hadn’t even competed against before, and he wasn’t worried about them. He was bored and turned practises into big jokes. Even Josef had gotten annoyed at his playful dramatism and intentional failures – Josef who has coached him since he was thirteen years old, Josef who has witnessed his biggest teenage dramas, listened to him whine about Victor always winning, let him make his programs just as sexual as he wanted. Poor Josef who suddenly had no idea how to make his favourite student motivated, and even went so far as to tell that to Victor.

The Cup of China had been rather odd even if he didn’t think of Josef actually talking to Victor about Chris’ motivation, and that alone would have made it unforeseen. That had been the first time Chris had seen Victor since his flying off to Japan, and the first time he had seen Yuuri since the banquet. Now that he thinks of it, grabbing Yuuri’s ass probably wasn’t the greatest decision – but he had genuinely thought that pole-dancing half naked together kind of gave him the permission to do that. Touching is his thing, but if he’d known Yuuri had no memory of the dancing, he would’ve gone for a hug, hand-shake even. He has some manners, after all, it’s just that he doesn’t think they are needed in every situation. With Victor they usually weren’t.

“Chris! How’s it going?” Victor had asked after Chris tried to joke with Yuuri about things the poor boy didn’t even remember.

“I’m not motivated without you”, Chris whined and pulled Victor’s tie, which had clearly excited the younger skaters around them.

“You’re always like that at the start of season”, Victor said happily.

“Victor, Chris is right”, Josef claimed. “He can’t get serious without you.”

Victor only laughed and turned to chat with a few other Russian skaters. Chris felt like he had been dumped. Victor always flirted back. Always. Maybe his drunken crush on Yuuri had been more serious than it had seemed – serious enough to survive a coach-trainee relationship and to become more than just physical.

“Yuuri, the sin of keeping Victor to yourself is grave”, he said without much thinking. “The whole world is hoping for his return.”

Despite all his jealousy, he did feel a little bad when he saw Yuuri’s mortified face. It wasn’t the boy’s fault Victor saw something in him he didn’t see in Chris. Maybe he should try better to be friends with both of them. He wanted to say something to Yuuri during his stretching, but he seemed way too nervous to be talked to – so nervous Chris almost got worried.

Finally it was Yuuri’s turn. His nerves seemed to have calmed down – he and Victor’s interaction on the side of the rink looked almost sensual. Victor had said he’s never seen Yuuri like this, but Chris had never seen Victor like this, so excited for someone else, so genuinely supportive.

“He’s totally different from last year”, Chris said as Yuuri nailed a Quadruple Salchow, but Victor didn’t even hear.

“Yuuri! That was perfect!” Victor shouted in the end – and alright, it was good, but not good enough for that kind of enthusiasm.

“The kiss and cry is that way”, Chris pointed out dryly and watched as Victor ran to his – trainee? Friend? Fuck buddy? Boyfriend?

“You don’t look amused”, Josef said when Yuuri’s points where announced. Chris only snorted and went to prepare for his own program. At that point he felt he had gotten some of his motivation back – he would win that Japanese boy, he would show everyone that he was the sexiest skater out there. He hugged Josef and took his starting pose in the middle of the ice. And then he skated.

 Chris finishes his noodles and puts the plate into the dishwasher. Stefan hasn’t seen his message – he’s probably asleep somewhere, or in a plane, or forgotten his phone on silent. Stefan never avoids messages like Chris does. Stefan never kisses him in national television no matter how many Quadruple flips he adds to his program.

Yeah, if he’d felt competitive in the short program, that was nothing compared to the free skate – that’s how he always does, puts more feelings into the second one.

I thought Viktor was the same as me, living for life on the ice, he remembers thinking, talking to Victor in his mind as he skated: It’s not like you to leave the ice and find someone you want to protect.

Now the thought makes him sneer – he should have seen Victor never lived for the ice quite as much as he did. Or rather, Victor did, but skating alone didn’t bring him as much happiness and contentment as it did, and still does, to Chris. Victor needs stability, Victor needs someone who can love him as much as skating or more. It is exactly like Victor to find someone he wants to protect. That’s why he loves that dog so much. That’s why he’s always teasing Yurio. That’s kind of what happened with Chris himself – when Victor threw him that rose, he claimed Chris as his: his to welcome to the world of skating, his to protect.

He still has the rose - he dried it and put it on his bedroom window, and it’s still there, back at his parents’ house.

He had thought it made him special. Not the rose alone, those Victor surely threw around all the time, but the fact that Victor asked for his name and remembered it. They met at the worlds, and at every competition after that. They became friends through their shared sense of humour and love for the ice, and after being friends for a few years, kissing came naturally. When Chris was 19 and Victor 21, so did sex. They never talked about it much, only made sure it wouldn’t affect their friendship. They were never in love – Chris fought against falling in love with Victor every second they spent together. Then he fought against being in love with Victor Nikiforov every second they spent together. Then he fought against loving Victor Nikiforov every second.

He wasn’t in love, not really, he knows it now. He was obsessed and flattered and proud and horny. Seeing Victor with Yuuri had hurt because he had thought he was special, that having sex with Victor after most competitions for four years made him special. When he had seen the look on Victor and Yuuri’s faces after the kiss, he had understood that he and Victor’s physical relationship never made him special. Neither did he share a similar bond with Victor as Yuuri did – never had Victor looked at Chris with eyes that full of love. He had been mad and even hurt, especially since the two of them didn’t even watch his free skate, and since he ended up losing to Yuuri despite his promises to himself.

They separated until the final and Chris didn’t know what to think. He focused on the upcoming Trophée de France and his place in the Grand Prix Final.

It’s only now Chris remembers he actually got two medals from this whole session, one golden, even. They are somewhere in the bottom of his suitcase. Stefan or his parents, whoever comes to see him first, will probably dig them out and put them in his trophy room with all the former medals. Chris doesn’t care. Cup of China, Trophée de France – no one even remembers those. It’s the final that matters. It’s the final top three that matters. No one remembers who got fourth or fifth or sixth.

(Maybe he should retire and pretend this year never happened. Maybe he should try harder next year.)

(He doesn’t want to try harder.)

Chris’ phone buzzes. Maman. Congratulations, darling. You did great. That flower crown looked adorable. Are you back home yet? Papa says hi. We are both very proud of you.

His parents had stopped coming to his competitions when he was 16 – he had asked them to. Josef was almost family and Chris felt at home in the hotels, ice rinks, among other skaters. They still watch every competition and always congratulate him, no matter the result.

Chris doesn’t think they understand a lot about skating.

Thank you, he types back. Just got home. I’ll call tomorrow.

Ok. Sleep well.

Stefan didn’t congratulate him. Stefan understands he doesn’t want well-wishes if he doesn’t reach the podium. Stefan knows how much Chris loves skating – he probably doesn’t understand completely, but he knows. Stefan had competed in ice dancing and loved it, but retired already at 23 to focus on working for the Swiss Skating Federation.

Chris thinks they had seen each other many times at competitions both in Switzerland and all over the world, but they never really talked to each other – the single competitors usually stayed in their own group, pairs and ice dancers in their own. Chris spent the banquets drinking with Josef, Victor and occasionally some other skaters – he never had a relationship serious enough to bring the person with him. Stefan chatted with sponsors and his coach like a professional and trustworthy skater, and occasionally had some fun with his skating partner Leonie and her fiancée.

 It was in the 2013 World Championships in London when Chris noticed Stefan as something else than just a fellow Swiss skater. Victor had said that he wasn’t in the mood for sex already in the beginning of the banquet, whispered into his ear, and Chris was fine with that – he just needed to find someone else. He had been eyeing a Spanish skater, but just when he got ready to make a move, the skater hugged his friends goodbye and left. Victor was already gone, too, and Josef was talking to Yakov and Celestino, so Chris went to get more wine. There were a few people in the line – a Chinese female skater whose name he couldn’t remember, Victor’s rink mate Georgi Popovich, and the brown-haired Swiss ice dancer. Stefan something.

“Oh, hi, Christophe”, Stefan greeted him as he stood next to him. “Congratulations for the silver.”

“Thank you. Congrats for the bronze to you and … Leonie?”

“Leonie Crosa, yes. Thank you.”

“Did she leave already?”

“Yeah, she wanted to celebrate with her fiancée”, Stefan explained and poured himself a glass of white wine. “They are getting married next month. Red or white?”

“Red”, Chris said and watched as Stefan picked up another bottle.

“There you go.”

“Thanks. So, did you bring anyone here?”

“I didn’t.”

“Recent broke-up?”

“No, not really. Over six months”, Stefan said and sipped his wine. “I didn’t see you with anyone, either. Except Nikiforov, of course.”

“Well, yeah. Victor’s a friend of mine. I don’t really do relationships.”

“Oh. You’d still have plenty of people to choose from, I assume.”

Chris raised his eyebrows and held up his glass – now he was glad the Spanish skater had left. “I’m positive so do you”, he remarked.

“Perhaps more than I thought”, Stefan said with a small smile and touched Chris’ glass with his. Chris’ mouth went suddenly dry. This was unlike his usual seductions, not planned, almost accidental – he nearly felt like he was the one being seduced.

“Do you have an after party planned?” Chris asked, trying to get ahead of the situation.

“No, I usually leave early.”

“Something caught your eye this time?”

“Someone, and not only this time. This time he was alone, tough.”

Chris swallowed the rest of his wine and put the glass down. “My room has an excellent minibar”, he said and winked.

“Good. This was a bit of a disappointment”, Stefan said and put down his barely touched wine. “Lead the way.”

 Chris lights up his phone screen again. Now Stefan has seen the message, which means he probably was in a plane that has now landed. Where, Chris has no idea. Their relationship is very open and in a way very thin. To the public, it’s only professional. Josef is the only one who knows what exactly they are. Or are not. Seeing each other, yes, for years already, yes. Dating officially, no. Stefan’s mother doesn’t know about them at all – he doesn’t think she’d understand, and doesn’t want to tell until he has an exact word for Chris. Chris’ parents know he has someone more or less permanent, but have no idea who it is – they jokingly talk about “their Christophe’s mystery man”. Victor knows there’s something between him and “the guy who’s not your coach but always hangs around at finals”, but probably assumes they’re just fucking.

It isn’t completely wrong to assume that, not knowing Chris’ history. He doesn’t do relationships, like he told Stefan the very first night.

He has gotten physically close to almost everyone who has let him since he was nineteen years old. He is a touchy person – he likes hugging people, he likes hands on shoulders and encouraging pushes. He loves the feeling of skin on skin, heat and sweat and no distance at all, he loves melting into one person with someone else. Anyone else.

He hasn’t gotten mentally close to almost anyone, ever. He likes keeping an emotional emptiness between himself and other people. His parents are supportive and he loves them, but rarely tells them anything they can’t read on a newspaper. He loves and trusts Josef, but they talk only about his career with little exceptions. He and Victor are best friends, they really are, but their conversations usually limit to three different subjects – skating, joking and dirty talk. That seems to be changing, though, now that with Yuuri Victor is slowly learning how to open up.

After the Cup of China, Victor had texted him a few times, congratulated for his gold in France and sent a few jokes. After the radio silence between last year’s Grand Prix Final and Victor flying off to Japan, Victor texting first had felt good. Chris had missed their bodies wrapped around each other, but he missed their friendship even more. Victor had seemed so tired after the GPF that Chris hadn’t dared to contact him – not tired as in slept too little, but tired as in exhausted of living.

They met at Worlds, again, and got gold and silver, again. Victor still seemed tired, so when Chris was browsing Twitter on the next day and ran into a video of Yuuri skating to Stammi Vicino, he sent the link to Victor. He had thought it might cheer Victor up, seeing people admire his career that much – and not just any people but a particular Japanese who Victor had been completely smitten with.

What’s this, Victor had replied.

You tell me. It’s your routine.

He’s great. Outstanding. Amazing. God. Almost as good as me!!!

You regret not becoming his coach now huh

The next thing Chris heard from Victor was that he was now in Japan.

Victor never truly explained his decision to Chris – when Chris called him, he offered many explanations. He saw so much potential in Yuuri. He wanted to give space to Yurio. He wanted to try his wings as a coach. He wanted to give Chris a chance of gold – the last one with laughter and probably less true than any of the other options. And then he kissed Yuuri right there on the ice – which was, well, an explanation of some sort, and closer to the truth than any he had offered to Chris.

After seeing how much happier Victor looked as Yuuri’s coach, Chris stopped caring why he had done it – Victor was his friend, and seeing him happy made Chris happy even if it was because of someone else. Chris still was curious, which is why he decided to go to the pool in frozen Barcelona.

 “I thought only a Russian would be stupid enough to get in the pool this time of year”, he said as soon as he saw Victor’s pale body floating in the steaming water.

“Chris!” Victor said, clearly surprised, and turned to stare at him.

“Hi, coach Victor!” Chris said playfully and put the bottle of champagne he had brought on the edge of the pool. “And here I was hoping to go skinny dipping.” That had been his plan B, if Victor hadn’t been at the pool.

Victor chuckled. “Don’t let me stop you. I’ll even take photos for you.”

“Très bon”, Chris said and dropped his bathrobe. He splashed water, posed, winked, dived and jumped for a good time as Victor took photos with his phone, covered in his own bathrobe. They even managed to take a photo together by placing the phone on a pile of chairs and using autotimer. Chris instantly put that one on Instagram.

Between the photos they managed to talk.

“Since you left, I’m one of the oldest…” Chris whined and took a sip from his drink. Victor also had a glass, which was already half empty. “And I’m only 25.”

“That’s old in skating. Accept it.”

“If that’s old, you’re ancient.”

“Two years, Chris. Two years.”

“Says the one who’s going bald.”

“Fuck you, Giacometti.”

“I didn’t think you wanted to anymore”, Chris said with, to his own surprise, amused voice. Victor laughed out loud, a voice more free than what Chris had heard from him in years. Chris stayed quiet for a while and finished his drink only to pour himself another one.

“You really like him, don’t you”, he wondered. Victor smiled in a way that made him look younger and somehow divine – like he was shining starlight.

“I do”, he said gently. “I’ve been thinking… I think I’m in love with him.”

Chris gasped, pretending to be amazed – Victor’s face had given him away days ago.

“Love! The great Victor Nikiforov in love! Who would’ve thought?”

Victor rolled his eyes and took a long sip from his drink.

“I wouldn’t have. What about you, then, still breaking hearts here and there or getting into this old-fashioned love thing as well?”

“Love, me?” Chris laughed like there wasn’t an I love you message in his phone from the very same morning.

“Not even with the guy – the one who’s not your coach but…”

“Stefan”, Chris said, suddenly annoyed at Victor for not remembering the name.

“Stefan”, Victor repeated and grinned. “Your voice sounds like there might be something.”

Chris never could stay mad at Victor for long. His sullen face was already melting into a playful smirk.

“Well, maybe there might”, he said lightly, “but it’s not like I’d tell you before telling him.” He has told him, but Victor doesn’t need to know that – he wants to talk about Victor, not himself.

“That’s unfair! I told you before telling Yuuri”, Victor sulked.

“You haven’t told him?” Chris asked, this time genuinely surprised.

“Well. Not with those exact words –“

“Oh my God, Victor. Come on. Let’s go to him. You’re going to tell today.”

“I – what?”

“Finish your drink. Robe on. Come.”

“He might be asleep”, Victor said after swallowing what was left of his third glass, “or anxious. Or…”

“I don’t care. Run, run, run you old man!”

“This is ridiculous”, Victor giggled, actually giggled like a little girl as they ran from the pool. “And I’m bloody freezing!”

“Me too, run faster. Let’s skip the love confessions until we’re warm”, Chris said, trying to stop his teeth from clattering.

“I agree. This is it”, Victor said and opened the hotel room door with force. “Yuuri!” he shouted and jumped from one foot to another. “I’m freezing! Please draw a hot bath!”

“Can you make coffee, too?” Chris begged behind Victor. Yuuri looked like he was barely awake.

“Were you still asleep?” Victor asked.

“Victor, let’s jump on top of him”, Chris whispered as quietly as he could. Victor nodded enthusiastically, not bothering to listen to Yuuri’s answer.

“One, two, three… Go!”

They ran from the door to the bed and flied through the air on top of a very startled Yuuri.

“You’re freezing!” Yuuri shrieked.

“You’re warm”, Victor breathed, hands already under Yuuri’s shirt. Chris settled for putting his fingers on Yuuri’s cheek.

“Quit clinging to me! Both of you!” Yuuri half screamed, half pleaded. Chris laughed and rolled away from him, but Victor put his head on Yuuri’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around him.

Yuuri looked at Chris, so helpless and so embarrassed that Chris couldn’t do anything but laugh.

 Chris chuckles at memory as he goes from the kitchen to his bedroom. Seeing Victor so comfortable with Yuuri had helped him feel like Victor’s friend again – that day he didn’t feel jealous. A bit of a third wheel when they started making out, yeah, but in a fun way, knowing that it (probably) wouldn’t have happened if Victor had been sober. That Victor had reminded him of the Victor he originally befriended, the beautiful, tranquil boy that got bubbly like champagne after just one glass. The boy who came to Chris’ hotel room when they were 17 and 19 and put his fingers on his cheeks and kissed him until Victor’s long hair was sticking onto Chris’ sweaty neck.

The memory feels distant, now, but he remembers it fondly. Those were the funny years, full of laughter and kisses and running away from both coaches and paparazzi.

Then they grew up. Victor started needing stability and love instead a playmate – Chris remembers nights he spent holding him, fully clothed but so close they could feel each other’s heartbeats. Sex turned from laughter and kissing and making love with platonic but deep feelings into silent fucking. They were still best friends, but they had also been something else, and now the something else crumbling down threatened to take the friendship with it.

Chris will forever be grateful to Yuuri for being the something else Victor needed – for saving their friendship.

(Even now when he’s still angry and disappointed at the Grand Prix results.)

Chris groans and lies down on his bed, not bothering to open it or take off his clothes. There’s no medal under them so why would he. There’s only a body Victor doesn’t love anymore.

(That’s just self-pity. Victor never loved him for his body.)

He was never in love with Victor, never, but in moments like this it’s too easy to imagine, too easy to pour the emptiness inside him into the made-up feelings sad love songs are made of. It feels justified, feeling this down because someone doesn’t love him back. It doesn’t feel justified to feel this down only because he lost a goddamn skating competition. No one makes songs about skating competitions.

He gets up and starts stripping off his clothes. He drops them in a pile on the floor and goes to get his suitcase from the door. He opens it and carelessly throws the clothes and costumes around him, gently places his skates in their place in the closet, and finally founds the two medals. He puts them both around his neck. He texts Stefan.

I’m wearing two medals and nothing else will you still love me even though neither’s from the final

The reply comes quickly.

I don’t want to kiss your medals, not even if they were golden. I want to kiss you. So yes.

Chris lets out a surprised laugh that almost echoes in the silent house.

I should probably be mad on behalf of V but that just made me love you more.

He doesn’t wait for a reply until he sends another message. Want to become official?

He almost counts his breathes until he gets a reply. It doesn’t even take longer than usually.

You cannot say things like that through a text in the middle of the night. You can’t. Call me tomorrow. Good night.

I will. Good night, cher.

He puts his glasses on the nightstand and crawls under the blanket, naked but medals still around his neck. They no longer feel cold, just a comfortable weight against his chest, rising and falling with his breaths. Stefan would take them off, put them where they belonged and lie down next to him, kiss him gently and whisper good night, fall asleep and still be there when they wake up, even if only to kiss him goodbye before rushing off to a plane like after their first night.

(God, he’s starting to understand Victor needing something permanent, something safe.)

Victor likes medals. He sees them as something more than medals – or rather, he tries to, Chris thinks. He tries to see all the work he put into skating, all the relationships he abandoned and all the jumps he failed in practise in that cold piece of metal. Chris can see those things. Victor tries to see them so hard he becomes obsessed with the medal. For a few hours, usually a night – then he’s ready to throw it away and Yakov has to save it.

Chris remembers countless times when Victor had lain on his bed like this, golden medal against his bare, pale skin that looked almost silvery despite the yellow hotel room lights.

“Kiss me”, Victor had said.

“You or the medal?”

“I am the medal.”

Yuuri seems to be helping with that, too, since Victor still wants to marry him. Since Victor clearly wanted to kiss Yuuri and not the medal, only joking that the reason not to kiss it was the material it was made of.

(Yuuri can’t read Victor that well, not yet. But he will learn. And Chris will be happy to see that.)

The evening they had announced their engagement had been… odd, to say the least. Yuuri not remembering the banquet was hilarious, but also very embarrassing – for himself, for Victor, and for Chris. That made it clear why Yuuri had acted like they knew nothing of each other. Sharing the pictures with them all was probably one of Chris’ favourite memories from the whole tournament. Yuuri’s shame and sudden realisation, Yurio’s embarrassment and disgust, Phichit’s excitement and shock – adorable.

And then he had noticed the rings, which only made everything better. Rings. Bloody lovebirds. Chris wanted to hug them both and start practising his tear-eyed best man’s speech right there. He also wanted to tease them a little, so he pointed them out to everyone, kind of thinking Yuuri’s family must know.

But no – it had been Minako who talked first: “Rings? I don’t remember you wearing that!”

When Yuuri and Victor both covered their rings, Chris knew this was going to be great. Victor happily declaring the rings were a pair, Phichit getting the whole restaurant to congratulate them on their marriage, Yuuri trying to explain they were only to thank Victor for his help. And other things. Chris had really wanted to ask what were those other things, maybe throw in an innuendo or two. Yuuri looked adorable when his face was flushed red.

Victor cut his plans short. “Don’t get the wrong idea”, he said, unashamedly showing off the ring. “They’re engagement rings. We’ll get married once he wins a gold medal.”

Rarely had the atmosphere of a situation changed so much because of one sentence. Phichit had looked challenged, Otabek mercenary – even Chris was surprised as he finished their sentence with a questioning huh.

And then JJ had come in with his girlfriend and cut the tension. Chris found him rather harmless, more fun than annoying, but the others seemed to almost dislike him. To him JJ seemed like a kitten that thought it was a full grown lion.

Poor JJ who had suffered from an anxiety attack on ice. Fucking JJ who had suffered from an anxiety attack on ice and still managed to beat Chris.

(Even kittens have claws.)

Chris rolls onto his stomach and buries his face into the pillow. He’s 25 years old. He’s an adult. He has competed for years. He knows there will be more competitions. He knows the others just happened to be better this year. He is so, so upset he got fifth. He is fucking mad at himself for letting Victor still affect his skating this much.

 To tell the truth, the first season without Victor is boring, he had thought in the middle of his Final short program. He did manage to gather some motivation while skating, but even that centred around showing Victor what he was missing. Watch this from the audience. I don’t give up that easily, you know.

Passing Yuuri felt great. And then the guy went and broke a world record – Victor’s world record – with his free skate.

Watching Yuuri skate to Yuri on Ice for one last time had felt like watching a love letter made of movement. Love letter to skating itself, and to Victor. There had been some tension between them that morning, some uneasiness in Victor’s smile, but when Yuuri started skating, it turned into pure love.

Chris started his Free Skate with mixed feelings. He had lost his competitiveness for a short while, accepted the fact that Yuuri had been better, only wanted to skate the best he could while the world watched, braced himself and nailed his first jump, a quadruple lutz. I can do this. I am these movements, I am my skates, I am the ice. Watch me.

Victor did not watch. Victor was sitting next to Yuuri in the Kiss and Cry and taking selfies.

Chris’ quadruple salchow turned into a single.

“Chris! Allez!” they shouted then, ripped from their own bubble by the audience gasping at Chris’ mistake.

He had never felt that angry while skating. He was angry at Yuuri for getting a score higher that he ever had. He was angry at those damn kids getting better points than he. He was angry at Victor for not watching. He jumped a triple axel, only a triple axel. Watch me. Second half. Triple axel, single loop, triple Salchow. The audience was on their feet, his program was over, he was surrounded by flowers and plushies and his ears were filled with applause. This was Christophe Giacometti, loved by everyone, being greeted by a flower crown when he skated to the edge.

“Merci”, he said and winked, in his element, happy and excited and adored.

Before sitting in front of the cameras at the Kiss and Cry, Stefan straightened the crown and locked eyes with him. Closer than ever before so near the cameras. Close enough for a glance to carry emotions hundred words couldn’t.

Chris hugged Josef, blew kisses to the cameras, held a cow plushie and acted like any famous skater happy with the program he had just skated, even though the weariness had started sneaking its way in the second he stepped of the eyes.

188.32 points. The cameras wanted a smile and he gave them that. Once they turned away he let his gaze drop.

Defeat.

It was his fault for not trying harder. It wasn’t his fault, the others just were better. And in the least it was Victor’s fault – but what can he say, he likes the drama, and blaming Victor has always been easy.

You’re a fucking asshole, he texts Victor.

Aww Chris, love you too, Victor replies.

Chris rolls his eyes and starts to type a reply, but gets another message before he finishes it.

Remember you’re not going bald yet. You still have time.

And a third one. And remember, Yuuri can’t compete in the Europeans so you might have a chance there!

Now Victor gives him time to reply.

1. Fuck you. 2. Love you. 3. Fuck you again.

I’m gonna put that in my best man’s speech

Victor. I’m the best man. I’ll be making a best man’s speech.

No, at your wedding!

My wedding. Right. With?

Stefan, ofc??

Victor remembers his name. Chris tries to fight a smile but can’t.

You won this round, Nikiforov

xo and only seconds later: tbh I deserve it our flight is six hours late

Victor knows he likes the drama. And clearly, Victor also knows when he needs a reminder of the good, non-dramatic things in his life.

(Being with Yuuri is making Victor way too smart.)

Oh, Victor. Chris hopes Yuuri knows what he’s gotten himself into. Probably not. But from the way he skated, moved like a love song travelling through Milky Way, Chris thinks he will not back away.

He’s been half jealous, half protective of Victor since his starry-eyed face after the banquet last year. He’s not anymore – it would be impossible after seeing them skate together.

Stammi Vicino. Stay with me. Yuuri skating to Victor’s routine, alone. Victor joining him. Close together, changing roles, flying through air, sharing soft touches, looking at each other like there was no one else in the world.

Chris likes to think he loves stereotypically romantic things ironically – he enjoys candle light dinners, star gazing, bottles of expensive wine and boxes of chocolate with a twinkle in his eye, never truly serious, always ready to throw it all away and his clothes with it.

Seeing Victor and Yuuri skate had made him want to put on a suit, buy a dozen red roses and take Stefan to the fanciest restaurant in Genève.

Or, spend the whole day with him in bed in their pyjamas, talking and laughing and enjoying the sunlight shining through the big windows.

That is worryingly sappy. And established. Domestic, even. Far away from what they had talked about the first morning.

“Chris”, Stefan had whispered, hand gently squeezing his shoulders. Chris woke up with a yawn, for a moment confused about where he was – he never woke up after competitions while it was still dark.

“What’s the time”, he murmured, taking in the surroundings. Stefan had put on his dress shirt and pants and was holding his jacket and tie. His hair that had been on a neat ponytail was a fluffy mess.

“Half past six. I’m sorry to wake you, I have to go to catch my plane.”

“Alright”, Chris said. This was confusing. Usually they all left at some point during the night, knowing his reputation. Victor sometimes stayed until late morning, even so long Chris had to practically throw him out, but that was because they were friends. He and Stefan were not friends.

“I know you said you don’t do relationships”, Stefan started and hesitated. “I’m not expecting anything. But I wouldn’t mind doing this again sometime, either.”

“Okay”, Chris said and raised his head from the pillow. “I mean, neither would I.”

“Good.” “Do you want my number, or…?”

“Why not. I think we’ll see each other pretty soon, anyway.”

“How come?”

“I start working for the skating federation next week.”

“You will? But… what about your career?”

“I thought you would’ve heard”, Stefan laughed. “I’m retiring.”

“What? Wait, how old are you?”

“23, don’t worry.”

“That’s not old.”

“Thank you.”

Chris rolled his eyes, now almost completely awake. “I mean you could skate for a few years still.”

“I know. I’m just getting more interested in the background work.”

“Right.”

“I mean it. But I really have to go now.”

“Okay”, Chris said, leaning closer like by reflex.

“Morning breath.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You’re incredible”, Stefan chuckled, gave him a quick kiss and got up.

“Bye, Chris.”

“Bye, Stefan.”

The hotel room door opened and closed, leaving silence behind.

 Chris rolls onto his back and takes the medals from his neck, drops them to the floor. “Again” had turned into many, many times, then there had been a few dates, then he had told Stefan about Victor and they had decided to define their relationship as seeing each other to themselves, working together to everyone else. More dates and more sex, letting Josef know about the seeing each other definition, dates and sex and Chris mentioned to his mother that there was someone and to Victor that there was something between him and the guy who always hanged around him and Josef, sex and dates and sex and I love you’s.

First one from Stefan on a sunny morning in September 2014. First one from Chris the night before 2015 World Championships Final. And many, many more until it turned into almost daily messages.

Chris loves scrolling through their conversation. He likes to go to a random point weeks or even months ago and read towards the present.

Je t’aime.

Je t’aime aussi.

Josef wants to know if you’ve decided your costume.

I have two options make him give me time pleaseeeeeee

I’ll try…

Je t’aime.

Je t’aime aussi.

Can you get my skates from the sharpener?

Yeah. I’ll bring them to your place in the evening.

Also bring wine?

Alright…

Yay! Love you!

You better

Je t’aime.

Je t’aime aussi.

Je t’aime.

Je t’aime aussi.

Can you BELIEVE what Victor did

Probably not.

Neither can I tbh

?

Can’t explain through text can I call you

Je t’aime.

Je t’aime aussi.

It’s way past midnight when he finally puts his phone down and tries falling asleep.

Fifth.

Why can’t the disappointment just go away. Why can’t he be the type to be happy because of the experience no matter the result.

(He is happy. Somewhere deep deep down. It will take days to dig so deep.)

He takes deep breaths, counts to six with every inhale and to eight with every exhale. He thinks of Victor and Yuuri, now probably in a plane, sleeping on each other’s shoulders, silver medal secure around Yuuri’s neck. He thinks of Yurio, also going back home, staring at the gold medal with that little self-satisfied smile. He thinks of JJ who could be either bragging to everyone about the bronze medal or actually more likely, he supposes, chastising himself for not being good enough, for letting the pressure get him. He thinks of Phichit and Otabek and their disappointment, and wonders if they are able to forgive themselves or filled with fiery determination to be better – or both. He thinks of Josef who must be thinking this was all his fault, that he failed to motivate his favourite student.

He should call Josef tomorrow. But not before he calls Stefan. Stefan who is somewhere, somewhere, somewhere, not because he wouldn’t want to be here but because he knows Chris.

Chris remembers the first time he and Stefan talked about Victor. It was after their fourth, maybe fifth date: they had had lunch together and decided to go to Chris’ house to “continue their conversation” – and ended up making out on his bed. Chris was just about to ask whether Stefan had plans for the evening, if he’d like to stay the night, when he broke the kiss and sat up on the bed.

“I think we need to talk about the elephant in the room”, Stefan said, smoothing his hair. It was about shoulder-length and kept escaping from the ponytail it usually was on. Chris sighed deeply, but also got up. His heartbeat felt faster.

“So. Tell me about Victor.” Stefan’s voice was gentle if a bit curious and calmed Chris down a little.

“What about him?” he said, still avoiding the real topic.

“How did you meet. How did you get to know each other. When did you start sleeping together. What’s going on.” Still calm. Chris ran his fingers through his hair and tried to make his voice casual. He wasn’t nervous of talking about Victor, he was nervous of how the information would affect Stefan.

“We met at the 2006 Grand Prix”, he finally says. “It was my senior debut, I didn’t get to the final. Victor, obviously, did and, obviously, won the whole thing.”

“Obviously.”

“Yeah. I had been his fan since his senior debut a couple of years earlier, and when he got off the ice, I shouted him congrats. He asked for my name, threw me a rose and said we’d meet at the worlds.”

“Smooth.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “I was fifteen.”

“Okay.”

“Really. Nothing happened then. We met again at the worlds, I don’t think he remembered me before I reminded him, but we talked at the banquet and, well, got along. At the next competition we exchanged numbers and all and became friends pretty quickly.”

“Friends.”

“I mean it. He’s my best friend”, Chris said sincerely.

Stefan looked at his eyes and nodded slowly, without the slight irony of his previous one-word answers. The silence hang around them.

“I’m not going to stop being friends with him”; Chris declared suddenly with intensity he wasn’t suspecting. Surprise flashed on Stefan’s face, but the quickly hid it.

“I’m not asking you to”, he said with a voice hinting that it should have been obvious.

“Right. Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I just want to know what’s going on with you two to know what’s going on with… us.”

“What I and Victor have is…” he says slowly, looking for words, “very casual. We have sex after competitions. We haven’t really made any specific rules or agreements, just that what’s most important is us being friends, the sex is a bonus, and we will stop if either of us starts to feel uncomfortable or when Victor finds his one true love.”

“What if you find your true love?” Stefan’s face was expressionless, but there was a hint of mischief in his voice. Chris laughed.

“I don’t believe in that kind of stuff”, he said. “And it’s a joke for Victor, too.”

“But he kind of believes it.”

Chris’ eyebrows shot up. “He kind of does.”

“Alright. Thanks for telling me.”

“No problem?”

(He loved talking about Victor, still like every child loves talking about their idol.)

“Now we only need to decide what this is”, Stefan said.

“I’m not ready to date anyone”, Chris said probably too quickly, but Stefan burst out laughing.

“You seriously think I believed you’d go from ‘I don’t do relationships’ to ‘Yeah let’s get Facebook official’ in four dates?” He sounded like this was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Chris nudged him lightly and grinned.

“I’m used to Victor’s ego, and that thing wouldn’t even fit in this room. But. What do you want?”

Never in his 22 years has he asked that exact question with so little hidden agenda.

“I don’t know”, Stefan said and lay down on his side. “I don’t mind you and Victor having your bonus things until his prince arrives. But I’d like to continue what we’ve done, I guess. Dates and texts and sex.”

“And lots of making out.”

“Yes. Making out is very important.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious right now.”

Stefan laughed, again. Chris liked the sound. He liked how warm it was, how it floated through the air and only ended when Stefan pulled him down for a long, long kiss that, he thought, was an answer he could do with.

 He falls asleep.

Hours later the sunlight climbs to his bed and wakes him up. He squints at it and grunts, tries to grab a pillow to hide his face but only hits his cat who likes to sneak into his bed early in the morning. Luckily for Chris’ hand, she’s asleep and barely reacts.

He checks his phone; there’s a text from Victor sent only minutes ago.

Landed. Finally. I feel tempted to kiss the ground. Now zzzzzzzz

Chris smirks.

It’s a beautiful morning in Switzerland the sun is shining the birds are singing and I’m loving life xo

You’re a liar that’s what you are Good Night

He hasn’t been able to think of a witty response when he gets another message. From Stefan.

Are you awake yet?

He practically bounces up from the bed, now finally waking up even the cat. The medals are still on the ground and he fights an urge to step on them (jump on them, up and down and up and down until they break or his feet bleed) as he grabs a bathrobe in case he gets cold and goes downstairs.

He hits the call button.

“Hi”, a calm voice answers. Stefan is nervous. The more nervous he gets, the calmer his voice gets.

(Chris only realises that now. He wonders what else he has learned without noticing.)

“Good morning.”

“It’s afternoon, but sure.”

“I asked you something last night”, he says, not bothering to jump around the topic.

“I know. But before we talk about that, really, I need to make something sure.”

“Okay?” Now he’s nervous.

“You didn’t ask because Victor got together with Yuuri?”

“What?” He’s so surprised he wants to laugh.

(He’s glad he doesn’t. There’s something very, very small in Stefan’s voice.)

“I know they got engaged in Barcelona.”

“Everybody knows, they have the worst poker faces. But no. I wasn’t thinking about that.”

“What, then?”

(He takes a deep breath. Deep breaths mean honesty and this, if anything ever, is the time to be honest.)

“I kind of realised I wanted to ask you that when I was watching their exhibition skate. The pair skate. But it wasn’t – I wasn’t jealous, not at all, I’m not settling on you or something, it was like – like I was watching pure love and it made me think of you.”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I’m saying yes. Prepare for dinner with my mother.”

“She’s going to love me.”

“She already does.”

“My parents will love you. Everyone else will not. They will be so mad you’re taking me off the market.”

“Can’t say I mind.”

“We can get joint custody of my cat.”

“You’re incredible.” The same, happily surprised voice. Chris puts on the bathrobe and goes to the garden as they talk, goes to cold and fresh air.

“I love you”, he says, breathing in the sharp winter weather.

“I love you”, Stefan says, smile as clear as the sky.

The call ends. Chris walks back inside. Goes upstairs. Grabs the two medals from the floor and hangs them on the trophy room wall, next to the many Stefan has put up.