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Yuzuru notices way too many details. Javier has exceptionally soft looking hands for somebody who is by all accounts made completely of hard, rough and raw edges. He's wearing a bracelet on one wrist, braided dark brown leather. He has the fingers of somebody who might play the piano or maybe even the violin. Yuzuru notices way too many details and he despises that he does, because now whenever he sees Javier, he'll be contemplating the way his hands look when they are curved around his cup of coffee and the edges of the bones in his wrists and how the skin of his collar bones might feel pressed against his lips.
Yuzuru notices way too many details. He notices the way Javier looks at Miki, like she hung the stars and the moon and makes the world turn. He notices the way Miki looks back up at him with the same exact look shining in her eyes like galaxies painted in thick strokes of black on black. He tries so hard not to notice how this makes his eyes and nose sting and his lungs constrict, tries not to notice the hefty weight that seems to rest heavy on his chest when Javier seems to rotate around Miki like a satellite whose gravity is adjourned to just her.
He did whatever he needed to do in order to forget, to wash away the details of Javier’s soft hands and fingerprints that left lasting imprints anytime they touched Yuzuru’s skin. To forget that the brown eyes filled to the brim with endless galaxies weren’t his to claim. But when Yuzuru let Javier give him one of those hugs, one of the ones that brought them so close he could feel Javier’s pulse thrumming along with his own, Yuzuru couldn't forget anymore. When he could feel Javier’s laugh vibrating in his own ribcage when he'd hold him close, Yuzuru would ask himself why he tried so hard to forget, because right in that moment all he wanted to do was remember this forever. He wanted to inscribe the light feeling into his chest like braille, so he could run his trembling fingers across it and erase all the thoughts from his brain, close his eyes, and finally relax.
All Yuzuru can do is keep on skating in his own cozy, homemade void, his own nostalgic silence. And this is a pretty wonderful thing. No matter what anybody else says. The glide of his skates across solid ice and the hard crack of a cleanly landed jump is what keeps Yuzuru from completely falling into his own subconscious black hole, a region inside his brain with a gravitational field so intense that no common sense would be able escape.
“Yuzu.” Would the stubble on Javi’s jawline prickle his fingertips, or would it be smooth to the touch? Would the curls on his head be- “Yuzuru! Jeez, why are you so out of it today? You almost skated into five different people already, and we are only twenty minutes into practice.” Yuzuru blinks at Javier and shrugs, then makes a move to skate away, only to be stopped by a hand grasping his upper arm. “Hey, I’m talking to you?”
“Talking to me?”
“Yes, you.” Yuzuru finally stops and actually looks at Javier, really looks at him, and sees the dark bags under his tired eyes and the disheveled curls on his head and thinks of dead stars depleted of all light. “Why do you keep running away from me?”
“I’m not running from you.” Yuzuru avoids all eye contact, since that is exactly what he has been doing for the past week. He can’t help it that whenever he looks at Javier, his ears ring and his stomach sinks. “I just busy with practice, that’s all.”
Javier rolls his eyes, finally lets go of Yuzuru’s arm, and says, “Is skating around in circles and almost knocking people over really what you consider practice?”
“Yes, great practice.” Yuzuru swallows heavily. Is that really all he had been doing? He needs to get himself together. It might still be off-season, but every practice is of equal importance in the long run. Especially during such an important season that has everyone’s nerves sharp and raw, ready to cut out competitors and equally as ready to dissolve into grainy stardust. Javier skates closer to him and moves a hand to tilt his chin until he is looking back at him again.
“Really, what’s wrong, Yuzu?”
“Maybe I should be one asking you that.” Yuzuru eyes the sagging shoulders and exhausted expression of his rinkmate and raises his eyebrows. “You look terrible.” The hand drops from his chin, and all of a sudden Yuzu can let out that breath he was holding in for so long his head feels light.
“That's so nice of you, Yuzu. Haven't spoken to me in weeks and the first thing you say is that I look terrible. How heartwarming.”
“Yes, very.” Yuzuru can't take the sarcastic edge to Javi’s voice that seems to saw through all of his defenses and leave him exposed. But thankfully Javier isn't the type to notice the details. Maybe because he isn't wearing his glasses, he doesn't notice that he is the only one Yuzuru doesn't push away. He tries and tries, but Javi always makes it past that invisible, stainless steel wall that separates Yuzuru from everybody else.
“When are you going to stop avoiding me?”
“I said I not avoiding you.” This time, Yuzuru doesn't break eye contact as he speaks, fake and steely confidence lacing his voice like poison. “It olympic season and I need to practice. And obviously, so do you.” Then Yuzu adds, “Fourth place finish at worlds.”
Javier does something he wouldn't normally do, which is roll his eyes, scoff, and skate away. Usually he would try a little bit harder, and usually Yuzuru would relent and let Javier's hand grasp the back of his neck and maybe even run through his hair. But Javier just skates away, and Yuzuru feels like some petulant moon that's been thrusted out of orbit. Or maybe like a white dwarf star, exhausted of all nuclear fuel, with only the hot core remaining. Gravity compacting all matter inward until even the electrons that compose his being are smashed together, leaving only a pool of heat that burns Yuzuru when he reaches out to grasp it.
-
Sometimes when Yuzuru looks at Javier, it feels like he’s gazing at a distant star. It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago. Maybe the star doesn't even exist any more. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to him than anything. It’s a light so bright that he has to squint his eyes, but also one that only shines on rare occasions, like when he finally does a clean run-through after months of rigorous training, or when he’s talking animatedly about last nights football match. It comes and goes as fast as lightning, but stays imprinted on Yuzuru’s eyelids, reappearing each time he blinks.
This light is becoming less and less common and is something Yuzuru hasn't witnessed since sometime last year when the flowers were still in full bloom. Back when things between them seemed okay, seemed comfortable. When he could call Javier on the phone anytime and know he'd get an answer paired with warm advice, no matter how drastic the time difference was. Now, Yuzuru isn't even sure where they stand - if they are friends, competitors, or strangers skating on the same cold and unwelcoming ice.
He tries to remain focused, to stuff everything he's feeling deep inside himself and lock it somewhere then throw away the key. But Yuzuru has never been the type to hide his emotions well.
“C’mon, do it again. Something about it just… isn't right.” Shaelynn stops the music and folds her arms over her chest, an obvious look of exasperation clearly laid out on her face, yet her voice remains calm and patient. They'd ran through the choreography countless times yet Yuzuru just couldn't get a grasp on it. He knew the moves, but the emotions just weren't there - it's like he has a mental block. And Yuzuru knew why, the reason was practicing quad sals at the other end of the rink, barely hanging onto any of the landings like he was afraid gravity would turn on him. Yuzuru knew that feeling all too well.
Yuzuru was broken out of his thoughts by fingers snapping in his face, “Are you okay, Yuzu? You seem distant today. You have to put more emotion into the skating, or it's not going to come together. You know that.”
“I know. I skate bad.” Yuzu almost feels tears clogging up his eyes, but shakes his head and replaces them with confidence. “Let's do again.”
And this time, he lets himself think of last spring, of late night phone calls that dragged on until the early morning, of a soft voice lulling him into a deep sleep through a static filled phone line. He lets himself think of sturdy hands on his waist and the base of his neck and of warm laughs meant only for him. He even lets himself think of hugs that lasted just that little bit too long but somehow still left Yuzuru aching for more. He puts it all onto the ice, carves out letters that spell out years of suppressed emotions and prays that no one can read it.
When he’s finished, he barely hears the applause coming from Shaelynn and Brian, because he feels like the weight has been lifted from his chest and he can finally breathe. But when his eyes meet Javi’s, who is gaping at him from the other end of the rink, the weight is back and feels even heavier than before.
“Yuzuru, that was the best I’ve seen you skate in ages! Well done.” Yuzuru sees Javi rushing off the ice, and barely chokes out the Arigatou before he excuses himself, heart racing and cheeks flushed as he rushes after Javier like a shooting star in a pale, moonless night sky.
He finds Javier, after much frantic searching, in the dark locker room. He is sitting on a bench, head between his legs and hands covering his face. Yuzuru almost wants to leave, to pretend like he never found the other, because he really doesn’t know how to deal with this. He is afraid he will make things worse, like he always seems to do lately. But he gathers himself - this is something important. Someone important. This is Javi, his best friend, his training mate, the person he confides everything to.
Yuzuru flips the light switch on, and Javi jerks his head up at the intrusion.
“Yuzuru, just go away. You obviously need to practice. Third silver medal at 4CC? Beaten by a kid, no less.” Yuzuru can admit he did deserve that, but it doesn’t lessen the bitter aftertaste it leaves on his tongue.
“Okay, I deserve that one.”
“You think?”
“I have been avoiding you. I will admit it, yes. And I am sorry. You don’t deserve such a bad friend. You deserve so much better than me, who says mean things and pretends like you don’t exist because of stupid and selfish reasons.” Yuzuru steps closer to Javier’s slouching form as he speaks, “But now I must know, what’s wrong? You don’t act like yourself. Not like shiny Javi I know.” Now the younger is standing right in front of Javier, hand hovering somewhere between their bodies like he wants to reach out, but his eyes are downcast and his expression reads timid hesitance.
“I just.” Javi finally seems to break, ““I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore.” A hand reaches for Yuzuru’s own outstretched one and Yuzuru feels like he finally has a hold on gravity after months of floating in lonely, suffocating space. “It's hard to put into words, but I guess it's like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. But nothing was put back in the right place.”
Yuzuru knows this feeling, he felt it after Cup of China when he thought about quitting the one thing he had invested every atom of his being into. Then he remembers how Javi was there for him every step of the way, and he knows what he must do.
His fingers squeeze Javi’s linked between his own. And he knows that’s all the other needs, really. A hand to squeeze his and prove that you aren’t alone.
“You can tell me anything, you know. But you also don’t need to tell me anything. I will be here for you, either way.”
“Even though I didn’t medal at worlds?”
Yuzuru laughs and taps Javi lightly on the cheek that is hovering near his stomach. “Oh shut up, you know I not care about that. You got over 300 points, so I forgive you.” This is the warm banter that Yuzuru has been missing during the past cold and disjointed months.
“Miki broke up with me.” Yuzuru hand moves from Javi’s cheek to tangle in his hair, urging him to continue. “Or, I broke up with Miki. A mutual thing, really.” Javier lets out a heavy sigh, “Two people can sleep in the same bed and still be alone when they close their eyes. That’s how it was with us, near the end. And is that really worth travelling across continents for?”
“I guess it really not, is it?” But Yuzuru thinks that he would travel across the milky way just to see the constellations in Javi’s eyes. He pushes the thought away and says, “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Or I will be okay. It’s just weird, having someone be such a constant in your life and then having them completely torn out of it.”
“Do you need a hug?” Javier doesn’t even answer, just wraps his arms around Yuzuru’s stomach from his place on the bench. He pulls Yuzuru closer and breathes deep sighs into the skin on Yuzuru’s neck that leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake, and Yuzuru just prays that Javier doesn’t notice them, or the beating of his heart that Yuzuru fears might even bruise his ribs.
Wasn't it better if he kept this desire for the other hidden deep within himself, and never actually told a soul? That way, there would always be hope in his shaky heart. That hope would be a small, yet vital flame that warmed him to his very core - a tiny flame to cup one's hands around and protect from the breeze, a flame that the violent winds of reality might easily extinguish.
-
Things get better between them after that. They seem to be back to where they were before, phone calls and warm hugs and witty banter fill most of their days until competition season starts, and it’s back to frayed nerves threatening to snap in half at any moment. He still felt that pain when looking at Javier, like a frozen knife was stuck in his chest. An awful pain, but the funny thing is he was becoming thankful for it. It's like that frozen pain and his very existence are one. The pain is like an anchor, keeping him from floating into space.
The weeks blur into months and before either of them can let out a breath they are at the grand prix final, falling all over the practice ice like they’d never even worn skates before. But somehow, through some metaphysical force or by some magic lacing the air, they manage to skate a clear and clean program when it actually counts. Both end up happy with their results, something that hasn’t happened in what seems way too long.
After Yuzuru had gotten his scores, Javier was waiting for him outside the kiss and cry with open arms and an open smile, and Yuzuru thinks he has never seen him shine as brightly as in that moment. He wonders how he hasn't been rendered completely blinded by the force of the light as bright as the north star in a black night sky, and he has to hide his face in Javi’s neck in order to protect his aching eyes.
Maybe it's the night Nagoya air that does it, or maybe the chilly damp moonlight is getting to his head, but Yuzuru can't help himself when he grabs ahold of Javier’s hand and squeezes his fingers between the cracks of his own. They had found a balcony to hide from the craziness of the banquet, mutually deciding to leave with just one look and nod.
Lately, Yuzuru could almost taste the time fleeing from the both of them. He could feel opportunities wasted on the tip of his tongue, climbing down his sore throat and threatening to choke and clog up his weak lungs. They only had so much time left as competitive figure skaters, of stress filled seasons that sewed them together with a mutual understanding. But Yuzuru didn't want it to end, no matter how much of a toll it took on them, since it meant being able to see the other and feel his pain like it was his own. Yuzuru knew what they had was something special, something that very few people go through and make it out of better than they were before.
“What are you thinking about, Yuzu?” Javier asks, forearms hanging off the railing of the balcony and face directed up at the bone white moon surrounded by a thousand specks of light, and Yuzuru thinks he looks beautiful.
But instead he says, “I was thinking of mistake in short program. Was silly mistake.”
Javier scoffs at this, “Of course you were.” He does squeeze Yuzuru’s hand that little bit tighter, though, and Yuzuru can actually admit that he wasn’t thinking about skating, for once. He is more focused on the way the moonlight reflects off the skin on Javier’s jawline and how it might feel if his fingerprints ran across it followed by his lips.
“I was actually thinking,” Yuzuru lets out a breath, and his eyes focus on his fingers linked with Javi’s, “that I don’t want this to end.” Yuzuru hopes Javier knows what he means, that he can finally notice all the details. That he doesn’t mean the grand prix final, or even their skating careers, but this. The hands linked together and hanging off the cold railing. The years of tentative friendship and mounting feelings. The comforting familiarity of having the other always present, even when there are continents between them.
Javier finally looks at him, really looks at him, and says, “I don’t want this to end, either.” And then his lips find his, and they are meteors crashing together in suspended gravity, they are lips and tongues and teeth but also soft and gentle tenderness. Yuzuru imprints his fingertips across the other’s jaw line, moves them up into his hair and tugs him even closer, deeper.
They pull apart, but are still close enough to be breathing the same air and thinking the same thoughts, and when Javier says the “I’m in love with you,” he can finally say that the frozen pain previously renting space inside his chest has vanished and been replaced by the warmth of Javi’s hands cupping his cheeks.