Work Text:
There’s a Difference Between Hula Hoops and Hooping
Christophe knows Leo won’t take the judges turning their backs to him to heart, that he’ll still love his exhibition skate and music all the same, but it’s clear that Leo had wanted the world to love his favorite song as much as he did.
“It’s not fair.”
Christophe hangs over the side of the rink wall and watches Leo make his way to the gate with his head hung low and chin nearly touching his chest. Leo’s hair is pulled backed and slicked back which means he can’t hide behind his bangs, and the tears welling in his eyes are obvious. Guang Hong is already done with his exhibition skate, and he’s the first person to greet Leo when he gets off the ice. They’re both on the younger side compared to the other competitors, and while Christophe knows growing a thick skin about poor scores or poorly received programs will take some time, it doesn’t make his heart hurt any less for the American skater who had clearly skated his heart out to his favorite song in the entire world. Leo is known for his artistry and almost obsessive behavior when it comes to music: he’s eager to discuss tempos and lyrics and isn’t shy about his top ten when asked. It’s endearing, and to watch Leo’s manic grin morph from pure joy while on the ice to utter dejection is painful: Christophe knows Leo won’t take the judges turning their backs to him to heart, that he’ll still love his exhibition skate and music all the same, but it’s clear that Leo had wanted the world to love his favorite song as much as he did.
“It’s because of me,” Christophe says more to himself than anyone else.
Leo had grabbed a Swiss flag the last time they had shared the ice in protest of the judges’ behavior for Chris’ skate, and apparently the world had conspired to have the same exact judges this time around. They had taken one look at Leo when he had come onto the ice before turning around of scoffing: it was the exact same thing that had happened with Christophe weeks ago.
“It’s just not fair!”
Leo’s slowly gaining on Yuri’s Bonaly media explosion and might even reach Yuuri’s improvised rink wall routine one day, but for now, Leo can’t seem to even recall his amazing flag twirling-slash-skating exhibition and the joy following that event.
He’s trying to smile as Guang Hong offers him a bear dressed in the exact same outfit that Leo has on while Leo’s coach makes gestures that suggest Leo should proud and that the judges are just bitter that Leo has an actual heart.
Christophe’s coach waves his hand at him and then removes his red-framed glasses and makes a showing of rubbing them on his jacket. “It seems like Viktor isn’t the only one who can motivate you know,” he says. “Go.”
Christophe smiles and then bolts: only one skater remains before he’s supposed to take to the ice.
The American stadium has definitely seen better days: it’s not dirty or in disarray or anything like that, but it’s clearly old and had been used more than one purpose. Christophe, during warmups days before, had seen and heard janitors and officials complaining about all the junk that just seemed to be left and never used in one of the larger storage rooms. Why didn’t anyone ever clean things out?
The halls inside the arena are quiet: most people are watching the skaters. Christophe heads for a large storage room which is neatly marked storage room 2-B on a blue plastic plaque with white lettering. There are two wooden doors and two silver handles. Christophe tries one handle, frowns when he finds it locked, and then tries the other: it’s unlocked. He opens the door and then reaches around until he finds a light switch. The room is warm and smells musty, but there’s all manner of boxes and containers and haphazard items. Christophe feels like his birthday has just come early because what he was hoping for is right there front and center.
“What’s Christophe doing?” Guang Hong asks as he and Leo sit and watch the Swiss skater pause by the ice, dump an armful of things, and then sit down on the ground and tug at his skates in order to put his sneakers back on.
Leo just sniffles a bit, dabs at his eyes, and frowns. “Hula hoops?” he says in confusion.
There must be a half dozen of them on the ground while Chris ties his shoes. They’re all striped red, white, and blue with a shocking amount of reflective sparkly finish. A few reflective bits of light are already flashing and winking against Christophe’s already bedazzled costume.
Christ takes the ice, a bit unsteadily given the fact that now he has sneakers on instead of his skates, hula hoops held in both his hands. He slides to the center of the ice, sets the hoops down in a pile, and then picks one up and steps into the rest. His music begins, and he isn’t surprised when people begin to shout: it doesn’t seem to matter what country he’s in, Britney Spears never fails to get a reaction.
“He’s going to hula hoop?” Guang Hong asks while Christ spins the hula hoop around his wrist.
Chris flings it in the air and the arena explodes when he toes the topmost hoop in the pile up and then starts hula hooping with it by his knees. He catches the other hoop, droops it over his head, and lets it fall to his knees where both hoops are spinning before shimmying enough to bring both up to his neck without using his hands. He bends over slightly, picks up a hoop, and holds it one hand.
It’s not quite unlike the step sequences and dance elements in skating: each motion Chris makes is purposeful and elegant. He spins around with the hoop in his hand in time to the music before he stops the two hoops around his neck and then spins around, bringing the hoops from his neck down to his feet and back up again with a dizzying pattern.
People are still clapping. Leo is cheering along with them. Chris drops all three hoops, brings one between his legs, and Leo began to scream when Christophe flips it against either hip before somehow kicking it up and over his head and catching it one hand. He reaches for a second hoop and starts spinning them both before crossing his arms: he doesn’t drop either hoop. It’s nothing short of what Leo might see in a circus, except that he’s at a sanctioned skating event and Christophe Giacometti is using his exhibition skate in order do some serious hooping.
One hoop hits the ice and Chris steps on it to keep it from sliding away. He bends back, holds both arms out with the hula hoop clutched in one hand, and sends it across his chest to the other hand before he starts to spin around with the hoop. The hoop pops up, lands around his neck, and that is definitely something that belongs in a club, but Christophe is still perfectly in time with the music as he drops it low and brings it back up while the hoop continues to steadily go around and around just below his arms.
Guang Hong is just as enthralled as the rest of the stadium. He stuffs his fingers in his mouth and whistles as Chris’ music comes to an end. He’s balanced on one foot, one hoop around that knee, his other leg stretched out with another hula hoop around that ankle, another about his waist, one on each wrist, and the final one around his head. The music stops, and Christophe lets the hula hoops fly every which way. One lands outside the rink wall, and Leo wastes no time grabbing it and heading for the gate as Chris waves and the judges just stare: it’s safe enough to assume that while some of them have seen color guard and flag twirling, they’ve never seen hooping before, at least not like this.
“Is this a challenge?” Leo asks while he hugs Christophe once he’s gathered the remaining hula hoops and exited the ice. “See who can twirl the most things while on the ice?”
Christophe just laughs. “I technically didn’t have skates on,” he points out while Leo steps back enough to try and hula hoop.
He manages a few revolutions about his hips before the hula hoops falls to the floor. Chris just drops his hoops, steps into one, and kicks it up. He’s barely moving and motions to Leo.
“You teach me how to throw a flag, and I’ll teach you how to hula hoop.”
“Where did you even learn how to do this?” Leo demands jealously. “That wasn’t just hula hooping!”
Chris just shrugs as Leo picks up the hoops and tries again. “It’s not always easy finding an open pole to use. Plus, I can’t exactly fall on my head doing this.”