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Javier remembered very well the first time he had heard about Yuzuru Hanyu. He was in the locker room of this year’s Skate Canada venue, lacing his boots. Kevin Reynolds kept talking about the performance the then 15 year old had pulled off the week before at the NHK trophy, finishing only 6 points behind the bronze medalist and Javier’s training mate, Florent Amodio. The Spaniard had briefly listened before brushing the new kid off. He wouldn’t be the first one to make a grand entrance on the senior level only to crash, and he had to focus on his competition.

              The next time he heard about the Japanese boy, it was upon arriving in Moscow for the Rostelecom Cup. His coach, Nikolai Morozov kept warning him about the newcomer and his surprising charm on the ice. Javier had to achieve at least the second place to hope for a Grand Prix Final qualification and, competing against Patrick Chan and Jeremy Abbott, this would not be an easy task. Of course, he failed and finished ninth, disappointing not only himself but also his coach. And above him, seventh, was the kid with his outrageous talent and his lack of self-control.

              It took them nearly a year before they got formally introduced. Javier had switched coach for the Canadian Brian Orser after years of feeling like he couldn’t possibly be enough with Nikolai. Brian was warm, welcoming and encouraging. He took great care of his students with the other coaches. Together, they went back to Moscow in 2011 and he did everything to make his student comfortable.

              The day before the short program, during practice, Javier saw a young boy, barely a senior, skate towards him, and he kind of guessed who that might be. Clad in his tight black training gear, Yuzuru Hanyu stopped next to him with a dazzling smile on his face and extended his hand. It took several seconds for Javier to return the smile and the gesture and to introduce himself.

“Hi,” he shook the boy’s hand. “I’m Javier Fernandez.”

The other one giggled. “I know. I Yuzuru Hanyu.” His accent was terrible and his English barely understandable. “I want say good luck.”

              With that, the Japanese had already taken off and Javier found himself looking at Brian at the boards, a bit confused, only to get a shrug as an answer. Well, this hadn’t been rude, he just couldn’t see the point of it, so he skated back to his coach, grabbed his bottle of water, drank a couple gulps and set it down.

“You know him?” He asked.

“It is Hanyu, isn’t it?” Wondered Brian. “I have heard about him. He made a good impression at the NHK last year if I remember. Nearly won the cup of China a month ago. He is a serious competitor here, that’s for sure.”

              Brian, as usual, had been right in assessing the kid as Javier’s main threat, because when he actually started training, he had all eyes set on him. There was a wild abandon in his movements that made him both inconsistent and somewhat intense, but he had an aura around him, a confidence in the line of his back that certainly didn’t belong to a seventeen year old. And, of course, the boy won the event, but Javier was not far behind.

              They met once again in both the Grand Prix Final and the World Championships, getting 3^rd and 4^th place in the first and 3^rd and 9^th in the second, but didn’t speak beyond polite greetings and did not pay so much attention to the other. Well, the Spaniard did take some time to stare at the ridiculous mummy costume of his free skate and the abomination of both of his exhibition outfits. He could understand the rhinestones and the glitter but he truly despised both the feathers and the sleeveless hoodie. If it were only for him, he would have burnt everything, no one deserved to be exposed to these horrendous things.

              It came as a surprise, however, when Brian announced that the boy would come and train with them in Toronto, if Javier agreed of course. The skater had nodded, not really sure about his feelings surrounding that. Last time he had trained with an actual competitor, he had been neglected by his coach, and yet, he wanted to believe that Brian was different and was ready to give it a try.

              What he had not expected either was that Yuzuru was set to arrive only a month later, in late April with both his mom and his dreams. He would travel regularly between Japan and Toronto to finish high school and Javier wondered how the kid was supposed to deal with both while constantly being on an eight hour plane when he was not away for competitions. If that was the way the JSF treated its skaters, he was happy to be part of a smaller federation. However, this was none of his business and he didn’t comment on it. He already had enough to do with his slightly inconsistent quadruple Salchow.

              After weeks of excited rumors and poorly veiled excitement, the door of the Toronto Cricket Club opened to let a slim silhouette in. The boy had barely changed ever since their first meeting, he looked just as young and vulnerable, if not more. He had a suitcase in one hand and a folder in the other. Everyone just stopped in their tracks when Brian left Elene to meet their new training mate, soon followed by almost all the other skaters. From afar, Javier could see that, while everyone was trying to welcome him warmly, they were distressing him. The boy kept bowing in all directions, eyes wandering over everyone and he felt a little sorry for him. After half an hour of excited shouting in his ear, he was led in Brian’s office to discuss training schedules.

              It was not until the next week that Yuzuru was allowed on the ice for a first afternoon training, and just like every time he started skating, most people just stopped to stare at him. The boy might look helpless on land, but on four millimeters blades, he lit up. He skated several lapses under Brian’s scrutiny and, without any other kind of warm up, he just leapt forward and achieved three and a half perfect rotations before landing on his right back outside edge without so much as blinking. Silence settled on the rink as everyone stared at him, dumbfounded. He did know how to make a grand entrance, thought Javier.

              Brian seemed a little less impressed than the rest and a bit more annoyed but the kid was just too eager to stay put and only do stroking exercises. His purpose was to jump and he did so as soon as he had more than ten seconds unsupervised. They soon learnt that Yuzuru had an iron will that kept him going even when he fell, that brought him to the rink long before the beginning of practice and would only let him leave the ice when he was threatened by a jumping interdiction. He meticulously followed Tracy and Brian’s advice and had them correct him for the tiniest imperfection regarding his step sequences and his spins. But really, nothing compared to his jumps.

              Javier was a good jumper, his quads toe and Salchow were pretty decent (Brian called them awesome) and his triple axels would sometimes turn out perfect. In comparison, the kid was a mess. He didn’t control his energy well and often let it explode for the world to see to end up crashing on the ice or against the boards. His quadruple Salchow was average and unreliable at best and his triple Lutz often finished in a jumbled mess of curses in both Japanese and rudimentary English.

              But no matter how many times his hips, shoulders, back and hands hit the ice, the boy would get up, fury blazing in his eyes, skate a couple laps before throwing himself in the air again. This often led to afternoons of Yuzuru landing solely on his butt and on Brian losing patience, but it was nearly impossible to stop him from expecting perfection.

              After weeks, they still had to communicate with each other. Javier had been assessing the new addition to their club from afar, never going beyond greeting him, and the other seemed to respect that distance between them. But when he would catch the Spaniard looking at him, he would flash him a sweet smile and Javier finally made his move on a stormy Friday afternoon. Yuzuru had been laying on the ice grunting after having missed his third quadruple Salchow in a row when he skated to him and purposely sent some ice on him. The boy glared at him.

“Get up,” he ordered, extending his hand. “If Brian sees you here, he is going to get mad. I’m pretty sure he told you to train with Tracy today.”

“I want jump,” grumbled Yuzuru taking his hand and jumping on his feet. “I tired of exercises. I need jump.”

“You’re not in junior anymore, niño,” reminded him the older skater. “There is more to skating than jumping. And you need a break; you’ve been training for the past two hours, that can’t be healthy. Come with me, we have the Toronto's best coffee shop at the Club.”

The kid seemed hesitant. “Brian…”

“Doesn’t want you to jump, so you better not be on the ice than in the air; trust me on that one, okay?”

              He only got a nod in response and he smiled at the younger skater. They both went to the lounge where the Spaniard ordered two black coffees for them and let the boy choose their sit. The first few minutes were spent in silence and he wondered if he should say something. He soon learnt that Yuzuru’s English was absolutely terrible and that anything non-related to skating was a no-go zone.

Well, he had never been known for his strict compliance to stupid rules. “So, how is it going here?” he asked slowly.

The way Yuzuru seemed to go over every word, scrunching his face was absolutely endearing. “Is hard. My English not good and I tired.”

Javier tried to not cringe too much. His English was not perfect and he knew many skaters who also struggled with the language, but the kid had a way of butchering both the pronunciation and the grammar that made his ears bleed. It was not his fault; of course, the guy was a skater, not an English Literature teacher, but still.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said, “I went through that.”

“I know. But very new,” replied the Japanese. “I can do it.”

“I know. Drink your coffee, it will be cold.”

              He saw the boy raise the cup to his lips and scrunch his nose at the strong smell that assaulted him. He looked a bit reluctant to try but one look at Javier’s encouraging smile had him taking a sip. Immediately, his face contorted in disgust and he set the cup down a bit too violently to the sound of the other’s laughter.

“I guess not then?”

“No. Is…”

“Bitter?” He got a blank look. “Not good? You need more sugar?”

“Yes.”

Javier laughed. “That’s what is good about it, you could get used to it as well.”

“First English. Two that. Maybe,” joked the Japanese, offering his training mate the first true smile of the day. “We go on ice?”

“Let’s go, Tracy will be looking for you.”

              They got up and went back to the ice with the clumsy airs of two toddlers, sharing easy smiles and a comfortable silence. When crossing the threshold of the lounge, Javier pushed Yuzuru forward, a hand on his back, not really paying attention. However, the Japanese jumped, nearly fell and looked at the older one, confused.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” Giggled the Spaniard.

“I… Your hand, it is…”

“Oh, that,” he realized. “Sorry, Spanish customs, I can be pretty touchy-feely.” He saw incomprehension on the boy’s face. “I don’t do that like that, in Spain we just touch a lot, sorry, I’ll stop.”

“No,” Yuzuru cut him off, a tentative smile on his lips. “Is fine. No worry. Javier can do, I just surprised.”

              That was as long a speech as the older skater had heard from his new colleague and he let out a laugh seeing the little determined light in his eyes and hearing his chaotic explanation. The guy might be a prodigy on the ice, but he was nothing short of adorable in this context. Especially with the confused look harboring his face.

“Why you laugh?”

“You’re cute,” Javier teased him. “All flustered and confused.”

“I not cute,” protested the other.

“Sure. Let’s go, we have about an hour before the end of practice and you still have to work on these stroking exercises.”

              What Javier didn’t remember was when exactly they had started hanging out outside of the rink. During the first weeks of them talking it had been all about taking their breaks together and sharing pieces of advice on their quads Salchow, triple axels and steps sequences. They would often be found sitting together on the couches or going through stroking exercises together.

              And suddenly, after their second World Championships together, they were taking the same trains before splitting at the bus station, they were going for lunch or dinner together or even staying at Javier’s place playing video games until four in the morning. Yuzuru’s mom sometimes invited him over for dinner and always gave him the leftovers. Somehow, in the span of a year, they had gotten pretty close. Of course, the language barrier was still here and Yuzuru was not a fast learner regarding English, but they made it work. They got used to having dictionaries with them and had learnt to communicate efficiently through gestures. Sometimes, when someone was speaking to the Japanese and he wouldn’t understand, they would call Javier to come and help.

              The boys had got very comfortable with the other, something that no one, especially Brian, would have expected. They would rather train together than separately because they motivated each other. Javier would keep Yuzuru in line, preventing him from spending hours just jumping, and the Japanese made sure his new friend would stay focused and dynamic throughout their training sessions. When competing, they would cheer for the other and comfort him if he failed. They had a peculiar relationship but they made it work. And nobody ever commented on how Javier seemed to be unable to keep his hands for himself around the other. The Spaniard himself didn’t know what to think of it. He hadn’t started voluntarily, but now, whenever they stood next to each other, he would find his hand on his friend’s hip or at the nape of his neck. He would go for a hug with close to no reason and always find the other snuggling against him. He wondered sometimes if that had to do with his fierce determination to help and protect the younger one.

              The first alarm rang in his head the first time he woke up curled against Yuzuru’s back the morning after his disastrous skate at the NHK Trophy in 2013. They were staying over at Yuzuru’s house in Sendai because Yumi had kindly invited both him and Brian to stay in a more comfortable place than a hotel. Both of them had accepted and Brian was now sleeping two rooms down the corridor while Yuzuru had installed a mattress on the floor for himself, giving his bed to his guest. They had fought over it a lot and had both decided to sleep on the mattress, hoping the other would surrender. Neither had and they’d slept as far from each other as possible all week long. Except that, this morning, Javier woke up to hair tickling his nose and with his friend’s lithe body in his arms.

              Now, Javier was a relatively open-minded guy and was all for letting boys be affectionate toward one another, but as far as he was concerned, this was not something he did much with his friends. This was how he woke up with Cortney. But the body against his  lacked several body parts that would help him identify that this person was Cortney and anyway, his girlfriend was back in Toronto, currently not speaking to him for some bullshit.

He was cuddling Yuzuru.

              It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, he would admit. The man was warm and soft and, close as they were; it was more comfortable than trying to not touch the other in such a restricted place. They were also very used to hugging and leaning on the other and that didn’t feel so different. However, while this could have been innocent, Javier’s mind was busy both freaking out and providing him with the weirdest information. Among it, there was the fact that he could smell his friend and he briefly wondered if he tasted as sweet as he smelt. There was also the fact that the small noises Yuzuru emitted while sleeping were the single most adorable thing in the world. And finally, there was the fact that it seemed as if they had been made to curl up together for they fit in every way.

              Javier was not an idiot; he had noticed that Yuzuru had grown over the two years he had known him. He was no longer a boy, and yet he barely felt like a man with his sweet, caring temper. But the telltale sign of this growth had been his body. What had seemed as a pile of skinny limbs flailing everywhere now looked like a slim yet strong form. His face had lost some of its last roundness and his eyes had hardened. The soft innocence of the teenager was slowly receding to let in the maturity and the patience of the grown up. His confidence had grown as well, from just showing on the line of his back to backing every one of his movements. He may not have the aura of an adult yet but his grace and his charm certainly were mature. Javier had stopped calling him “kid” about half a year ago because that didn’t fit the other anymore, not really.

              That should be the end of the story. His friend was now an adult, cool, now go back to sleep, but it was much weirder. It had been easy to be all touchy-feely with someone he regarded as a little brother, someone to protect and lead through life, but Yuzuru no longer fit that description. They were equals now, he didn’t need protection anymore. The first time that realization had hit Javier, he had spent a couple days wondering if it was still okay touching Yuzuru like he did. Was his hand too low on his hip? Should he stop caressing his cheek to cheer him up? How much of it could actually be considered flirting?

              He wished he could talk about it with his friend, wished he could be truthful and say that he was a bit lost, a bit confused about how comfortable they were and how dangerous the line they walked was. Indeed, always being so close, spending time together like that, people were starting to make stupid assumptions. And yet, lying in bed with him, an arm thrown around the Japanese’s waist, he wondered if these assumptions were that stupid.

              He got up before he could spend more times entertaining weird ideas in his mind and before he could make it awkward between them. They were friends, Yuzuru trusted him enough to sleep in the same bed as him, to hug him in comfort and to let him touch his body because they had settled it was friendly. And the weird, dirty ideas that had erupted in his mind while he was snuggled against the other man’s back had betrayed his trust. He tried to get out of the bed without waking up its other occupant but a hand closed on his wrist.

“You wake? So soon?” he heard Yuzuru grumble, his English not yet up to its usual standard.

“I can’t sleep anymore,” he said in a small voice, turning around to face his friend.

              Maybe he should have noticed earlier how his mind kept recalling him how beautiful Yuzuru could be. Because there was no denying that, in that very instant, all he could think about was how his beautiful eyes seemed unable to stay open. And how cute his little sad and tired expression seemed.

“You sleep in my bed?”

“Yep, I think I’ll go up there, I’m too warm here.”

“’Kay. Sleep well.”

              And with that Yuzuru went back to sleep and Javier found himself staring at him with both guilt and a new feeling he wasn’t sure he felt like really acknowledging bubbling in his chest.

              He failed to qualify for the Grand Prix Final in Fukuokua, but they were so close to the Olympics that he couldn’t abandon Brian for more than a week, so he went there both to train and cheer on his training mate. He never thought he would be able not to get to compete there but it did take a huge burden off his shoulders, especially with the European Championships and the Olympics just around the corner. It gave him more time to focus and train without putting the pressure of having to compete against Yuzuru.

              It was weird between them lately. The Japanese man was so focused on his dream Olympic Gold medal that he hardly took any time to do anything else than practice. On the other hand, Javier was still trying to deal with the realization that had dawned on his that morning a month ago. That feeling that maybe there was more to their relationship than just friendship, at least on his side. He wasn’t sure if it was lust or something deeper, but he always felt tenser around the other man. Would notice the stupidest thing like how elegant the curve of his neck was or how soft his hands seemed. He kept it for himself because that was just weird and he didn’t want to make Yuzu uncomfortable, but it left him confused and wanting of something he couldn’t quite understand.

              On the other hand, no matter how awkward he could feel around Yuzuru, it was still better than with Cortney. He didn’t really know what was happening in their relationship, didn’t see it going anywhere and she seemed to think the same thing. But while she was all for letting go, he had asked her for one more chance and then had fled the country for about a month, making her understandably upset again. He guessed he would have to talk with her when coming back from Japan in about a week.

              Someone called him and he focused on his surroundings. He was standing in the backstage area with Kikuchi-san and Brian, watching his friend running around, headphones in and determination shining in his eyes.

“Javi,” Brian repeated, “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he lied, “just tired.”

Brian didn’t look convinced. “You will qualify next year, I have no doubt about that, you have had so many issues with your boots, it’s normal that you had the season you had; And even for someone without boot problems, that was pretty decent, so don’t worry.”

Javier shook his head. “I don’t care. I think it’s good because I don’t waste energy on that, I wouldn’t win, anyway. I’m just a bit tired I guess.”

              Brian kept looking at him for a moment and he wondered if the Canadian had mind-reading abilities for he didn’t seem convinced at all. The thing was that no, he didn’t feel well, but no, that had nothing to do with his inability to qualify here. He was done being ridiculous, thank you very much. He felt like his coach was about to say something to him when Yuzuru trotted back to them to ask their mentor to help him get in focus.

              Yuzuru won the Grand Prix and they went back to Canada with a renewed optimism for the Olympics. After all, training in his old boots made Javier much more consistent (and confident) and Yuzuru had just beat Patrick Chan by a good thirteen points. And if he had hugged Yuzuru a little too tight when he came back from his free skate, nobody would know.

              Months passed in a blur with Yuzuru becoming Olympic champion and Javier landing off podium, disappointed and bitter. He had trained hard these past years and had hoped for a medal with all his will power, but it hadn’t been enough. Instead of wallowing in these negative feelings, he tried to feel only joy and pride for his training mate who was now standing on top of the world, a radiant smile on his face and a huge golden medal hanging from his neck. And maybe he ought to feel worse, but the expression on Yuzuru’s face every time he got to hear that he was an Olympic champion made his heart skip a beat.

              He had done it again. Worlds 2014, Javier got his second bronze medal in a row, redeeming himself for the Olympics, and on his right stood Yuzuru, another pretty shiny medal around his neck, smiling to everyone and everything. At nineteen, he had won the three most important competitions of their sports with very good scores. He deserved every ounce of respect that was given to him.

              On the other hand, while Javier was infinitely proud of his friend, he started to feel like maybe he was undeserving to step on the same podium. It was stupid, Yuzuru was a human being and he could fail, but there was such a command in his performances, such an unnatural confidence, that he found himself feeling rather irrelevant. What could he offer that the Japanese didn’t offer as well? His only difference to his friend was his ability to land his quad Salchow on his feet and not his butt, but even that would probably disappear in time, right?

The next season reinforced that feeling. Past the Cup of China where he felt like his heart had stopped beating, seeing his friend and training mate lying on the ice, blood staining the smooth skin of his throat and mind foggy, things had started again for the Japanese. He wasn’t on top of his game in the NHK Trophy, but he wouldn’t stay down forever, would he?

Javier had looked forward to the Grand Prix Final in Barcelona. He wanted to inspire people in Spain to try skating, wanted to convey his passion for the sport and not be the only one fighting for a medal for his country. He wanted that gold medal, he deserved it. That would be such a symbolic moment, standing on top of the podium, receiving the reward for his hard work and being the first man from Spain to ever win an ISU Grand Prix Final gold medal…

However, his dream shattered before it was really a possibility. He was backstage when Yuzuru took the ice, but he heard everything. The music rising, the delicate touches of the piano helping him picture his friend’s airy form, the cheers of the crowd at every jump, and finally, its roar when the music died. The noise went through him leaving him distressed, panicked. He had no doubt in his mind that Yuzuru could enchant the hell out of a crowd and provide them with the best short program that had ever existed, and he wasn’t sure if he could even pretend to compete with that. He stayed away from the screen but Brian’s smile when he came to check on him gave him all the answers he could possibly need.

He still had about thirty minutes before he could get on the ice, warming up, and the unease grew in his body. He was in Spain, performing in front of an audience that saw him as the only hope in Spain’s men figure skating. He had to deliver a clean, good short program. And, somehow, he had to beat the World and Olympic Champion in the process. He tried to no let the pressure become too much, but when he finally got to remove his guards, his hands were shaking pretty badly. He attempted to perform but fell on his opening quad Salchow and doubled his triple Lutz. It felt just like when he had first learnt the program with David, not knowing exactly where to go and what to do. He was lost in the sound of the crowd cheering for him, in the sea of Spanish flags and in his own self-doubt.

Exiting the ice, he felt like crying. Of all of his bad performances in his life, none had left such a bitter taste in his mouth. Spanish people usually heard about him because of his successes, and now that he had been given the chance to prove them his talent, he had crashed. He joined Brian, head hung low and jaw tight. They went to the Kiss and Cry and the poor 79.18 points he received tasted like disappointment and failed expectations. His fifth position left him a bit desperate. How could he come back?

“Brian?” He called his coach who was helping him gather his stuff. “How much did Yuzu get?”

“94.08,” replied the Canadian with a shrug. “He fell on his triple Lutz triple toe.”

              94.08. That was not a huge score for his training mate, but it was still fifteen points higher than him. To dream of scoring higher than him, Javier could only hope that he would skate clean and that Yuzu would fail. This was unlikely.

              Brian stayed at the rink, waiting for his Japanese student while his other one just went back to the hotel. He was trying to avoid the Spanish media and thought that leaving before the end of the press conference would allow him to do just that. He collapsed in his bed, discouraged. The win was out of his reach. Yuzuru was too good to be beaten, even only a couple weeks after his terrible accident. He was still under the weather; everyone at the Cricket Club knew that. And even sick, tired and traumatized, he was still so much better than everyone else…

              He had no idea how long he stayed lying on this bed, just thinking about what he could do to salvage his pride and ambition. He may not be able to beat the Olympic champion now, but surely Machida could be beaten. He was inconsistent and only 7 points ahead of him. Javier could do it; he had a high base value, second only to his friend and he had consistently good component scores. He couldn’t do anything about his short program anymore, he had to focus on winning the free skate and get on the podium.

              He heard a knock at his door so he got up, arranged his hair a little bit and went to open. Brian was standing there with a little smile and a bouquet in his hand. Javier let him in with just a nod, wondering why his coach would pay him a visit after – he checked his watch- eleven. They both sat down and Javier waited for his coach to take over.

The Canadian handed him the flowers. “Here, some of yours fan were waiting for you outside of the rink but you were already gone. They asked me to give you that and to tell you not to be too harsh on yourself. They were lovely.”

“Thank you,” smiled Javier, delicately taking the flowers. “I should probably have stayed to talk to some people…”

“You did what you had to do in order to feel better, nobody will blame you for that,” replied Brian.

“I’m not sure I feel better. I mean, now that it’s done I can hope for nothing but silver.”

“Silver is good, you know,” Brian reminded him. “You qualifying here is amazing because you are among the top six skaters in the world. You getting on the podium is fantastic because you would be in the top three.”

“Yuzu never settles for silver,” Javier blurted out. “He always hates it when he doesn’t get gold. Why should I be happy with it?”

“Javi…”

“I’m not as good as him, I get it, but sometimes I just wish I could exist, you know? Not just be Yuzu’s training mate but be his true competitor, being able to be compared to him at all…”

              They stayed silent for a moment after this little outburst with the Spaniard already feeling guilty. He shouldn’t have shouted at his coach, he had only come to check on him. And he couldn’t resent Yuzuru either, it was not his fault if he was so much better than everyone else. Winning was only up to Javier, not to his team or partners, he was the only one to blame if he failed.

“Sorry…”

“Why didn’t you tell me you felt that way before?” Asked Brian, concerned.

“It’s unfair to Yuzu. He encourages me, always trying to push me and I only feel jealous about his success that he has worked so hard to achieve…”

“You need to tell me about your feelings Javi. We could arrange different training sessions so you can focus on yourself, we could just try to go over your feelings so they don’t overwhelm you. Don’t shut us out.”

Javier shook his head. “I wish I didn’t feel that way. That irrelevance. It’s exhausting.”

“You’re not irrelevant,” Brian reassured him. “Yuzuru is not perfect, he is not a god. He fails sometimes, and he hates himself about it just as much as you do. Sometimes he looks at you skating and he asks me if one day he’ll be able to be like you. You both admire each other and sometimes wish you could be the other, but, in the end, you are both unique and very relevant, I hope you will believe me.”

Javier smiled and nodded. “I don’t know if I can but thank you for telling me that. I just need to sleep on that negativity to skate better tomorrow I guess.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Said Brian, getting ready to go. “And stop worrying, you’ll do just fine tomorrow, I have no doubt about it.”

              And Brian had been right. Javier had a great skate the next evening, only singling a planned triple Lutz, but then there was Yuzuru who not only under-rotated his but fell on it as well. And, in the end, he got the silver medal he could have hoped for. And as he stood on that podium, arm around his friend’s waist, he felt a little bit better. The hug they shared before parting for the night that evening made his heart flutter.

              And then they faced each other again in Shanghai. They had spent less than a week in close vicinity in the past three months and there was an awkward feeling between them. Yuzuru seemed to be uncomfortable, restless. Brian had to stay with him most of the time because he was so nervous and Javier was just fine. They didn’t have the same amount of pressure put on them. Yuzuru was the absolute favorite, being the reigning World and Olympic champion. Javier was an underdog and he kind of liked it that way. He could focus on skating.

              Maybe that was the reason why he won, or maybe it was because the favorite had too many bad memories in Shanghai. All he could remember was skating between the gifts that had been sent to his friend after his free skate and knowing, by the less than overwhelming response, that the door was opened for him to step in. There was a fall, brutal and unexpected but he got up and nailed the next Triple Axel. He remembered the exhilaration, bathing in the adoration and breathing heavy. He’d done it.

              The score confirmed it. He would at least land on the podium and could possibly get the gold medal. And no matter how good Jason and Han Yan performed, they couldn’t reach him. And as the American’s scores were announced, Javier turned to Yuzuru. He hadn’t really spoken to the Japanese man, knowing how dismayed he must feel and being too excited to be of any help. He hugged Denis and then turned to his training mate.

              It was maybe cliché to think about it, but his friend’s eyes were an ocean of contradictory feelings. There was disappointment, joy, shame and so much pride. They hugged and Javier wished he didn’t have to let go because nothing had ever felt more right in his life than holding Yuzuru in his arms in such a glorious moment for him. Maybe it was tactless to be so happy when the other one was probably feeling so low, but he couldn’t help it. And when Yuzuru breathed congratulation against the skin of his neck, he shivered. And when they parted a little and that he saw the younger skater crying, he couldn’t help but wipe the tears with a brush of his fingers.

              That’s in that exact moment, looking at the tear-stricken face of his training mate, that Javier knew he wanted much more than just friendship from that man. He wanted to erase those tears and comfort him. He wanted to kiss him better and hold him against him. So he did the next best thing and hugged him again.

“You’ll always be my champion,” he admitted in a low voice, trying to convey all his feelings.

              He didn’t have time to know if the message had been received, Brian had already come back and was ushering them towards the ice with kind words for the both of them. And everyone pretended not to see the Japanese man dabbing at his eyes carefully in a corner and they joked around. They all somehow knew the feeling of crashing and knew not to bother him.

              The ceremony went by in an instant of blissful glory, standing on the podium and watching his flag rise in the center, the Spanish anthem resonating for the very first time in a World Championships venue, making his heart soar. Maybe he had not been able to beat Yuzuru during the Grand Prix Final, but did it really matter now? He was still in the game, still relevant, and that realization left Javier feeling happier than ever.

              However happy he was, he was not a bad friend, and after the press conference, he kidnapped Yuzuru. He’d asked Han Yan where to go for coffee and the other skater had shown him how to get to the Bund, allegedly the most beautiful part of the city, still reminding him that he didn’t know the place that well. He took his friend there, enjoying the striking view on Pudong, the financial heart of mainland China. They sat in one of the many rooftop bars and ordered their drinks.

“Thanks for coming,” started Javier.

“Of course.”

“I know you. I guess you’d like to be alone, I know you’re disappointed.”

Yuzuru diverted his eyes. “I’m very happy Javi won.”

The Spaniard smiled fondly. “Come on. We both know that it’s true but that you would have preferred to step on top.” There was a silence. “I don’t blame you, you know. I feel like that all the time when I can’t reach the highest step, it’s fine. We are competitors; you don’t have to feel bad.”

“I don’t like it,” whispered the Japanese man, focusing on his tea. “You work hard and I skate bad. You deserve it, I don’t. I must be happy.”

“You can’t control your feelings, cariño,” he stated it, hoping the other one wouldn’t notice the slip-up. Now was not the time to discuss feelings. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I just don’t want you to beat yourself over this, I have no doubt you’ll take that title away from me next year.” He winked but did not even receive a smile as an answer.

“I am horrible person,” Yuzuru forced between his teeth. “You are nice with me and you care for me and you should celebrate. But you stay with me and tell me nice things, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Yuzu, really. It’s human and that’s reassuring. This level of perfection was worrying. Let’s enjoy the city before it’s too late okay? I was thinking of walking around afterwards, apparently there is a huge shiny street around here and I’ve heard it was pretty impressive. Would you be down for it?” He saw the incomprehension on his friend’s face. “I mean, want to visit?”

              There was a tentative smile appearing on the Japanese man’s lips, something akin to relief. He just nodded and finished his tea in one go. Javier soon imitated him and they got ready to leave. As they were about to start walking, he found himself in a warm embrace. Yuzuru’s arms snaked around his waist and his face ended up nuzzled in his neck. It felt intimate, maybe too intimate for Javi’s heart, giving him a taste of what it longed for. He closed his arms around his friend as well, putting his hand at the nape of his neck. He wanted to stay that way forever.

              Javier flew to Japan in May, ready to tour with about twenty other skaters, including Yuzuru. It was his third year doing this particular show and he knew most of the skaters in it. They would tour for three weeks. Afterwards, he would stay for a couple days before going back to Spain for a week and then Toronto. Only thinking about all the planes and times zones he would have to use, he already felt exhausted. And as the days passed by, he noticed a pattern. Yuzuru and him didn’t usually communicate with each other if they were not in the same city but here, they could be standing twenty centimeters away from each other and the Japanese ace would find someone else to embark in a rapid-fire conversation in a language he couldn’t possibly understand let alone speak.

              Without the help of his friend and with the presence of only a couple of people he actually liked, Javier didn’t have the best of times during the shows. He would go out there, joke about SuperJavi and would only come back for the finale. Then, he would pack his stuff and spend the rest of the day or of the evening in his room or with some skater he barely knew and who would be just as bored as him. How he wished the Shibutanis were here… When, finally the three weeks came to an end, he started considering leaving Japan early. He didn’t feel like staying and he could probably make an excuse up so the producers would agree to pay for a change in his flight.

              However, the night before the last representation, someone knocked on his door. He opened it to find Yuzuru in his pajamas, his laptop in hand and a nervous smile twisting his features. Javier was tempted to slam the door on his face and go to sleep with his anger because after three weeks of being ignored, he really didn’t feel like socializing.

“Hi,” Yuzuru greeted him. “I think we can talk and watch show.”

“Why now?”

There was a silence. “Can I come?”

              The Spaniard sighed. He wanted to speak to his friend, wanted to hug him and to catch up with him. They had so much to say to each other, if only because they hadn’t for about two months, but also because Javier had decided that he wanted to talk about what they were. He didn’t have high hopes but he had to say it out loud once to move on. And you didn’t get to that level of competition without taking leaps of faith.

He opened the door. “Go. You can put your laptop down; we have to catch up first.”

              They both sat down on the bed, back against the frame in a somewhat uncomfortable silence. Javier didn’t know where to start, if he should talk about his feelings or ask about the fact that his friend had avoided him for so long and so obviously. He also wondered if it would be too much if he leant a little more against the other’s shoulder. He missed him.

“I’m sorry,” started Yuzuru. “I know I bad friend, I don’t want be mean. I need time and space.”

“Is that because of the Worlds? Because I told you it was fine.”

“No. Not worlds. Just me as person. I need think before next season. I’m sorry.”

“Are you alright?” Javier wasn’t sure if his chest was tight with worry or just the need to embrace his friend to give him comfort.

“I will,” asserted Yuzuru. “But I’m tired away from people I care so I come say sorry.”

“It’s fine, I guess,” answered Javier finally surrendering to his gut feelings and placing his arm around the Japanese’s shoulders. “You know if you want to talk about it you can come to me, right?”

“Hai.”

“Good. Now you brought your laptop. Could you stay for a movie? That’s my punishment.”

              His joke was lame but Yuzuru let out a relieved laugh and hit him playfully in the chest. The Spaniard felt his heart missing a beat just for the picture of his friend with his messy hair and his glasses. He was so beautiful and so delicate, how was he supposed to stay away from him? How was he supposed to resist him?

              They settled against the bed frame, Yuzuru claiming his previous position against Javier’s side, his laptop precariously balancing on his knees, an anime playing in the background. The Japanese man had hooked his European friend on them and they were the easiest thing to watch because Yuzuru understood the words and Javi the subtitles. It would have been like any other day spent like this if the younger skater had not decided to suddenly grab one of the other’s hands and play with his fingers idly. The gesture felt intimate, somehow, caring. It made Javier want to do stupid things like kiss his forehead. And before he knew it, he was doing just that.

              Yuzuru turned around suddenly, riveting his eyes to his friend’s. He didn’t seem hostile, just curious. They might be very close but they were absolutely not used to kissing in any way of form. That had always been rather too far beyond the younger skater’s boundaries and comfort zone. To do this now was just a spur of the moment and Javier wasn’t sure how to explain this without first confessing his feelings. He took a deep breath and took his arm off the other’s shoulder but let him keep his hand.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, I…”

“Is fine,” said Yuzuru with a shrug. “We can go back?”

He was about to hit play when Javier stopped his hand. “I have something to tell you, Yuzu…”

“What it is?”

              They locked eyes and the Spaniard was not sure that he could take that step. He was sitting next to the man he had once compared to his wife because they basically lived together every day. They were each other’s best friend in Toronto; they just understood each other without words. Brian sometimes joked about them being his sportsmanship miracle because they might be rivals but they pushed the other forward, going out of their way to help him. They would spend their breaks sitting together commenting on the other’s program. They sometimes had dinner at Yuzuru’s place. Long story short, the man next to him had somehow found his way on the list of people he trusted unconditionally. He wasn’t sure he wanted to ruin that relationship of theirs.

              On the other hand, ever since he had realized his feelings, Javier tended to get awkward around his friend. It felt wrong to fake only being friends when all he wanted was to make the man happy. Build something with him. Be just as special to Yuzuru as he was for him. Sleeping in the same bed, a thing they had done so often had now become weird and uncomfortable. He hated the feeling of lying to someone he cared so much about.

              He was about to start his rant when Yuzuru put en encouraging hand on his arm, conveying patience and openness in such a simple gesture that Javier felt like crying. His eyes were soft and caring and his lips twisted in a soothing smile. Everything about him felt like home and quiet evenings curled up on a couch, something Javier craved.

So he leapt.

“Yuzu… I don’t know how to say but the shortest way to sum this up is I think, no, I’m sure that I’m in love with you, and I sorry if you don’t feel that way and I want us to stay friends and…”

              He was rambling, he knew it, but he wasn’t sure how to keep going. He had no idea what to think about Yuzuru’s feelings about him, had never wanted to assume. However, he felt the hand which had been playing with his fingers let go, and before he could fear the rejection, it was on his face. He couldn’t read those deep eyes fixed on him at this moment but that didn’t feel like rejection at all. It felt as if Yuzuru was also about to take a leap of faith.

“I can kiss you?” He asked, and Javier could hear the blush in his voice so he just nodded.

              He had dreamt many times of this, of Yuzuru closing the gap between them to brush his lips. He had imagined it confident and soft and warm. The actual thing was relatively awkward because they were sitting next to each other making the angle of their necks absolutely terrible. And it was clear, in about two seconds, that Yuzuru had probably never kissed anyone before. Or just had never practiced enough to excel at it. It was still a nice kiss for it marked the beginning of something new and exciting, but it was not the best one Javier had ever had. Well, hopefully he would get to become even more of a training mate for Yuzuru, right?

They leaned back, both smiling like idiots and the Spaniard was sure that the other could see him actually blushing, which was rather ridiculous. “I guess it means that you are not appalled by my feelings for you?” He asked.

“I like you for long time, Javi,” giggled the Japanese man. “I try make you understand but you never see.”

Javier felt mortification washing over him. “I’m sorry. I can be dense.”

“You can and I wait long time,” Yuzuru pouted, “you apologize. Kiss me?”

              Who was Javier to deny his friend? He laughed a little and sat facing him. He cupped the younger skater’s face and leaned in slowly, bubbles of happiness sparkling in his stomach. He felt like a teenager again. He started by kissing his nose, his forehead, his cheeks, his temples and felt Yuzuru shiver under his hands. He then proceeded to slowly, softly kiss his lips. His mind tried to grasp the reality of the situation, their mouths moving in unison, the Japanese man’s hands on his waist, caressing his hipbone over his shirt, it was surreal.

              He broke the kiss and pressed his lips to the other’s nose before sitting back a good half a meter away. Yuzuru puckered his lips but Javier just laughed and grabbed both of his hands. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling which must have given him an idiotic look, but this was just so much more than he had hoped for going into this conversation. He had expected a polite rejection but now he had to physically hold the man he loved away to be able to talk. This was just about perfect.

“Why stop?” complained Yuzuru and Javier just rolled his eyes.

“We have to talk about it, cariño. Talk about what we want and how comfortable you are with all of this.” He pointed at the both of them.

              Yuzuru sighed and lied down entirely on the bed, eyes fixed to the ceiling, not really cooperative but not refusing either. Javier decided to imitate him and adopted the same position so their arms would be pressed together. He took the other’s hand in his and started playing with his finger idly.

“I think we don’t need talk,” indicated Yuzuru in a low voice. “I like you, you like me, is easy.”

“I wish it were that easy, Yuzu, but we are adults, and a lot of attention lies on you. So what do we do? I’d like to have you as my boyfriend but do you want the same? And do we want to tell anyone or is it just you and me? Do we make changes in the way we act outside at all or not? How comfortable are you with the physical aspect of things? It may sound stupid and silly but I am serious about this. I like you,” saying it always made his heart flutter, “and I want to make you happy, but I can’t read your mind.”

Yuzuru seemed to ponder everything. “I want be your boyfriend,” he whispered slowly, “I want us together. But we can’t tell people. Too much to think about. Sponsors won’t like it. People are mean to us. Media wants to know too much. Relations are private. I hope you understand…”

Javier smiled softly, they were going somewhere. “I do, cariño, I do. And as long as you are my boyfriend, I don’t really care about the rest, to be honest.”

He was about to let out a laugh but, in one swift move, Yuzuru had rolled on his side and was hovering above his lips, his eyes fixed on them. The older skater did not know if he should move so he stayed in his position, his hands aching to caress the other’s face and his entire body wanting to move closer. And finally Yuzuru leaned in and brushed his lips. It was not enough, clearly, but he suspected that tonight had marked his boyfriend’s first kiss and he wasn’t about to assault him with the heavier stuff without being given proper permission.

“I really like you,” whispered Yuzuru against his lips and Javier would lie if he didn’t admit that he did flip them around and kissed him a bit more passionately because of this confession. Well, he had tried, and Yuzuru let him.

              They kept meeting in secret, behind closed doors, always at Javier’s apartment, and, depending on the time of the season, every night or only a couple times a month. There was never any rush between them, no real emergency. They knew the other would be here in the morning and the night after, or maybe a week later, but they were in love and they were sure. And so started the 2015-2016 season. After Yuzuru’s disastrous start at Skate Canada, things started to clear up. Javier won both of his Grand Prix events with ease. Then, Yuzuru took the world by storm.

              Javier could remember it by heart. He had been lounging on the couch, nursing a cup of coffee to try and stay awake. Practice had been hard that day but if he wanted to see his boyfriend skate, he had to keep his eyes open. Why did he have to be invited at the NHK trophy, so many hours ahead of him?

              When the event started, Javier stopped mentally complaining. There were so many good skaters at this event this year, so many potential competitors, he had to pay attention to what was happening because a couple of them could end up in the final with him. Among them there were Maxim Kovtun and Michal Brezina, but above all, there was Boyang Jin. The kid was eighteen and still lacking in artistry but his technique was impeccable. The rest would come in time, there was no doubt about that, and Javier really wished he would retire before Mr. Quad Lutz – Triple Toe would peak. He wasn’t fond of being ridiculed, weirdly enough, and Yuzu did that too much already.

              The skaters came and, with the exception of Boyang, no one really caught his eyes. The programs were not bad but usually rather poorly performed. The men would step out of their jumps, trip on their landings and pop their jumps in every program, and after half an hour of this mess, Javier really felt like going to bed. The only thing that kept him up was the cheers of the crowd when a figure in a white and blue shirt set foot on the ice.

              Yuzuru didn’t look his best in that costume, Javier would admit. Of course, the shirt was much prettier than many other outfits his boyfriend had worn in the past, but the rhinestones and veil did not flaunt him. At least his free skate costume was nothing short of stunning with the intricate patterns and rather unremarkable golden embroideries.

              Thoughts about costumes and distasteful glitter were pushed away when the first notes echoed in the arena. The Spaniard loved the music Jeffrey had chosen and the way it enhanced Yuzuru’s fantastic skating skills and the delicacy of each of his movements. For two minutes and a half he acted like a madman, shouting encouragements and exploding with pride at the end of the program. These had been two minutes and a half of perfection. And when the scores popped on the screen, he couldn’t help but grin. His lover had done it again. He had broken his previous world record by five points. The day after, when he skated the best free skate the world had ever seen, he felt just as proud.

              But both nights, when he went to bed, thinking about Barcelona and what to expect there, thinking about his chances of getting a medal, he felt ashamed of himself. He was proud of Yuzuru, of all of what his hard work had led him to win, of all he was doing for the sport, but he set such a high bar for the rest of the crowd. They had all taken for granted that the 300 points mark was unbreakable and Yuzuru had wrecked it with such ease. Was there a point in going to Barcelona and fight for smaller medals while getting humiliated by Yuzuru’s talent? He knew this might be a bit stupid, he was a top figure skater and Yuzuru could, objectively, fail. But there was a feeling of irrelevance and insecurity overwhelming him after the beauty of what had happened.

              Two weeks later, Yuzuru pulled another perfect performance and, as he was standing in the middle of the rink, arms open and bathing in the glory, Javier wondered for the first time what he was doing here, at this level. Sure he could kind of jump, his spins were correct, but how could he end up here and hope no one would see who he was? As he climbed on the second step of the podium, no one really paying attention to him, Javier felt like crying. He felt wrong, stupid and clumsy next to his lover who seemed to be unable to fail, lately.

              He was happy for him, of course, but there was this idea in his head that, maybe, Javier was not enough. Maybe he was an imposter. He had won the world title but in no way deserved it more than his partner. He didn’t have the same skating skills, his spins were not as fast, nor were they as centered. His jumps were alright but not outstanding. He had scored above two hundred points but, to him, it felt more like the judges had been a bit enthusiastic about getting closer to Yuzuru and giving him points for that. The dread and shame he felt left a bitter taste in his mouth.

              Bowing his head, he started waiting for the end of the event, more than ready to go hide in his bed. His hometown crowd kept cheering for someone that was not their local hero and it felt wrong for him to stand next to the object of their praises. They went through the evening in a blur and, as soon as they were released, he fled the arena, leaving Yuzuru to deal with the media that still wanted to hear from him.

              He had arrived at the hotel in a record twenty minutes and was all but running in the elevator, his key card already ready. He got in the cabin with an elegant Asian woman dressed in a navy suit. She caught his eyes on her with a curious smile and it took about a second before she seemed to recognize him.

“You are Yuzuru’s training partner!” She exclaimed, her English heavily accented by what he supposed to be a Chinese accent. “From Spain, right?”

He felt a frown settle on his face and he bit back a nasty remark. “Yes, I’m Javier Fernandez,” he said, holding out his hand. “You are?”

She shook his hand with a firm grip. “Wei Xiaoyun. Journalist for CCTV. I mostly cover pairs but if I could ask you a few questions about you and your relationship with Yuzuru Hanyu…”

              The elevator arrived at the Spaniard’s floor and he exited it without paying attention to what the young woman was saying. He wanted to be home and finally let out his frustration and disappointment. He had skated a good program, but of course it hadn’t been enough for him to take gold. It would never really be enough, would it? He could try his best, but without help from Yuzuru, there was no way he would be able to win, they were just all that irrelevant compared to the man they already called the “Greatest of All Times” at the grand old age of twenty-one. The worst was that, that night had finished proving to him that his World title was a scam; a present handed on a silver platter to him by Yuzuru. He didn’t deserve it, had only won it because the other had allowed him to.

The Final had proven that he was no competition to him, would never be. The Japanese man was no normal figure skater; he was untouchable, made of diamond and steel, of silk and titanium. Shame flooded in him, making him regret even stealing the World title from its rightful owner.

              Yuzuru did not come that night, or the following for that matter and had not said a word to him after the Short Program. He was too busy being worshiped by the rest of the world was too busy for his suddenly very insecure, very depressed boyfriend. He didn’t even see through the fake smile during the final banquet and barely kissed him goodbye at the hotel before leaving for three weeks in Japan.

              Three days later, Javier was back in his bed, curled under his soft blankets with Effie claiming Yuzuru’s usual spot, as she always did when he was absent. She liked the Japanese boy but he tended to not like her sleeping in their bed with them as her fur made his asthma kick up. The jet lag had been terrible, and the Spaniard had been grateful to finally be able to collapse in bed after a tedious day of training.

              It was about two in the morning when the horrendous sound of his phone cut the darkness like a knife, scaring the cat away and waking Javier. Grunting, he fumbled for it but did not reach it in time to take what was apparently a call from an unknown number. Before he had time to register what his screen displayed, the damn thing started ringing again and he reluctantly picked up.

“¿Son las dos de la mañana, que quieres ? » He mumbled, not really paying attention to the language he was speaking.

              His voice was hoarse and his mind foggy, while, on the other end of the line, another person was shouting panicked sounds that vaguely resembled English at a speed way beyond Javi’s abilities given the current conditions. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, trying to chase the sleep away.

“Yuzu?”

“Hai. You sleep?” Asked the Japanese man, trying to slow down.

“Yes, that’s what people usually do at two in the morning,” he complained.

“I need talk to you,” explained Yuzuru. “We are bad situation.”

The following mess of sounds and panicked exclamations barely registered in Javier’s mind and he found himself unable to pick up on the issue that made his boyfriend so nervous. He tried to interrupt him but the other one kept talking louder and more rapidly so he gave up and waited for the end.

“Cariño, you have to slow down, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

 “Javi, a girl has pictures of us when we go out your apartment before we go to Barcelona!” came the, still as panicked, but much more understandable, answer. “She post them on Internet!”

              The Spaniard could remember that, to make things easier, and because they could, they’d both slept at his place the night before the flight so they could leave together for the airport. He stifled a moan and rubbed his eyes, slightly confused by the situation.

“And?” He asked.

              There couldn’t be anything compromising about these pictures. Yuzu slept at his place often enough to have his stuff around and to be able to always look normal in the morning. Plus, before a competition, they usually cuddled to sleep, not exactly something that left visible marks on their bodies. The picture could only have them walking side by side, Javi a coffee in his hand and both rolling their suitcases behind them with practiced ease. Not scandal worthy then.

“Everyone ask me if we are together!” Shouted the younger one. “My family, my old schoolmates and even Brian call me to know if we date. Media wants I say something because they think we too close and we hide.”

              Javier sighed, trying to find words of comfort for his lover. They had talked before about keeping it low profile. After all, whether or not they spent a significant amount of their time kissing and cuddling was no one’s business but theirs. And neither Japan nor Spain could be regarded as the most progressive places in the world, especially about homosexuality.

“What did you tell them?”

“I tell them I just stay because it is more easy to go to airport. That we are not like this. That friends can travel together.” replied the Japanese boy, getting impatient.

“Good.”

“Why you are not worried? Everyone thinks we date and I have to lie.”

“Why would I be? You had a strong point, you coming out of my apartment is no proof we are together. And you know I don’t care that much about what people say, I just don’t want them to interfere with us.”

“I do. Them knowing is not good. We don’t talk about that in Japan.”

              Javier sighed. It was either too late or too early to have this conversation. He’d been avoiding it for a long time because he didn’t want to pressure Yuzuru or to scare him but, at some point, he would have to tell him the truth. He took a deep breath and leapt.

“You are more than just Japanese, cariño; everyone in our sport knows you and most people do talk about that kind of stuff. And about you. They want to know you. But you said they were wrong, and then it’s over. It’s fine.”

              He could hear his partner fuming on the other side, apparently having expected a much stronger reaction than the one he got. Javier didn’t know what else to say, Yuzuru had dealt with the media in the correct way and there weren’t so many options to begin with. Also, it was hard emphasizing with him when his brain wasn’t even fully wired to the situation.
“You don’t help a lot.” came the disappointed, bitter answer.

“You know that I wouldn’t mind people knowing about us, querido…” whispered Javier in the phone, knowing he was entering dangerous grounds. “I don’t care what people think about us, as long as we deal with it well. I know you want us to keep it a secret…”

“If I remember correct, when we talk about it, you say you don’t want people know about us.” Yuzuru’s voice was getting tenser by the minute and it seemed obvious that they would end up fighting.

“I didn’t say that. I said I understood that you wanted to keep it low. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable…”

“So it is my fault and my problem, not yours?”

“That’s not what I said, cariño…”

              Javi knew he was trapped in this situation, nothing he would say would solve the matter and nothing would be articulate enough for him to explain his feelings for Yuzuru and how the important thing for him was for them to stay together. They may have started that relationship on the basis of a mutual crush, but as time had flown by, Javier had realized that his affection was much deeper than what he had expected. Yuzuru was a charming, smart, nice and genuinely funny person. Off the ice he was an awkward, endearing dork and on his skates he was a mesmerizing apparition that graced the earth by simply existing. He was so much more than what everyone saw in him and the Spaniard felt grateful that he was willing to spend time with him. On the other hand, he could be a real pain in the ass when they started fighting and would not hesitate to start attacking the person facing him if that meant he would win the argument.

“I don’t want people know,” declared Yuzuru. “Is that problem?”

“I told you already, I don’t care. My family guessed I had a crush on you and they were more than fine with it, which was my only concern. I love you and I want you to be happy and comfortable.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “When I was little I think I will never say to someone that I like guys like I like girls because they will not like me. They will disappointed in my and I don’t want that. I think I will tell someone if I find someone I really like and we know we will stay together long time. Someone my family knows because then it means he is important…” Confessed Yuzuru, his voice raw and vulnerable.

              Javi could hear it, the struggle to keep calm, and the fear in his voice. He wanted to answer that declaration, wanted to tell him that they still had time, that nothing was lost. He tried to, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t because, as soon as he opened his mouth, a realization hit him. The younger one did not consider him a serious long-time partner. He didn’t think long-term with Javier, didn’t even consider it and had said so in such a rough, nonchalant way that the Spaniard couldn’t contain his insecurities. They overwhelmed him. His voice died in his throat while he kept hearing muffled sounds on the other end of the line.

“Need time to think.” Was Yuzuru’s eventual declaration before hanging up.

And Javier was left, phone stuck to his ear, tears threatening to spill over his face. Everything had been alright until the implications of his lover’s speech had hit him full in the face. And his insecurities sang in his head. You are not enough, never have been, never will be. You both know you don’t deserve him. You are irrelevant, like all the others, crawling at his feet but never on his level.

              Javier was highly annoyed. Yuzuru had just come back from an impromptu three weeks in Japan about which he had not warned him about. Well, he had once Javier had called him to know where he had been this past week, and why he was not picking his phone. The Japanese had calmly explained that his family had invited him over for a few weeks and that he had gone on a whim. Without warning his partner who’d been intrigued, worried and then terrified about not seeing his lover and not hearing from him, assuming that he must have done something to upset the young man. And now that he had come back, he was still waiting for an apology.

              When it didn’t come, he decided to serve to Yuzuru the same medicine he had been receiving this past year or so. He had been invited for a series of ice shows across Japan to celebrate his newly acquired second world title and decided to fly there without telling Yuzuru. Of course, he would only be gone for two weeks or so, not several months, but that should help him get his point across.

              Or so he had thought. Three days in his trip in Japan and he had yet to hear from his lover in any way. Sadness and anger boiled in his stomach every time his brain sidetracked him to the smiling face of the man who was currently living a Javier-less life in Canada. How could Yuzuru not care or if he was here or not? They had been an item for at least a year and yet, it felt as if their relationship was just every bit as unsteady as it had been in the first couple of weeks.

              It was on the fifth day that his phone finally started playing the special ringtone he had for his “other half”, a cheesy Japanese song that the boy had always seemed to love beyond reason. He picked up, cursing loudly and ready to start a war.

“Finally!” He exclaimed.

“Hi!” said Yuzuru, quite joyful. “I just arrived home but you’re not here. I thought you had scheduled morning sessions during summer?”

              Javier stood there, in the middle of his crappy, lonely hotel room, mouth agape and fury blazing in his veins. How dared Yuzuru not even be aware he had not been home for nearly a week? How could he call him tonight asking if he was home as if it had not been so long since they had even shared a word?

“I’m in Japan, Yuzu.” He said, too baffled to even express his anger. “I have been here for the past five days. I would have hoped that, by now, you would have asked about my whereabouts to Brian, if not to me.”

              Only silence met his explanation and a rare awkward silence fell onto them. Javier wanted to shout, to express how Yuzuru not noticing his absence made him feel useless, unwanted. Nothing but a decorative object you would notice you had lost after a few days before shrugging off and continuing your life. Of course, as an athlete, he understood that sometimes, training got a bit intense and you would get absolutely clueless after an especially tiring session, but how could his lover not notice that he had been gone for so long when he spent half of his time in the other’s apartment?

“I am sorry.” Said Yuzuru in a very small, shameful voice.

              Javier didn’t feel like replying so he just hung up, grabbed his jacket and wallet and left the hotel for a walk. He needed to distract his mind from the renewed feeling of irrelevance, of uselessness. He abandoned his phone on the mattress and almost ran downstairs.

              The air in Osaka was warm but not suffocating and he released a breath he hadn’t noticed he had been holding. He started wandering the streets, both focusing on his failing relationship and trying to avoid thinking about it. He loved Yuzuru. He felt it at every moment of the day, when he woke up with his heat against his side, when they goofed around while getting ready for practice, skating on the same ice, eating lunch outside of the club, enjoying the first days of spring in Toronto… And when he was alone, he felt it even more, the absence of laughter in his apartment, the cold nights tossing and turning around, looking for a frail body to hold, the moments he forgot how it felt to kiss his lover or how he would feel amazed by just watching him being. Every parting was a moment of pain and each reunion was a celebration.

              He was desperately in love, holding the image of his partner close to his heart, cherishing the times where they could be Javi and Yuzu, cariño and baka together (he had never loved being called an idiot more than by Yuzuru, he was that kind of hopeless fool in love). But there had been a growing fear in his heart, one he did not want to let explode because he was not sure if they could survive it.

              He knew, because Yuzuru had told him countless times, that he was loved. He could sometimes see a very special spark in his lover’s eyes, could hear the fondness in his voice when he was talking to him. But maybe that was what he had convinced himself to believe? Could you call what they had love if the younger one didn’t even notice when he was gone when Javier felt every moment apart as necessary suffering to keep their lives balanced? Could he call that a balanced, healthy, loving relationship? Were they holding each other back, preventing the other from achieving their dreams because they required too much from him?

              He really didn’t want to answer those questions. He loved Yuzuru and was almost convinced that he was loved back, so surely, their relation could work out? Surely they could make things better, talk about their issues, about how they felt and try harder? Maybe, no, surely, he could work to lower his expectations so Yuzuru could live his life like he wanted and they could still be happy together? Maybe they didn’t have to end things here just because of petty disagreements? He at least ought to try.

              Javier was warming up backstage at the World Championships in Helsinki. He would only compete in about half an hour but he wanted to keep his mind busy and his eyes off the screen that was currently playing his lover’s program. If lovers they still were. He had no idea since Yuzuru had been avoiding him for the past forty eight hours and his mistake in the short program. And Javier had tried to reach to him, had even knocked several times on his hotel room door to remind him nothing was lost, that he could win the competition. If one of them could, it was Yuzuru. But both the door and Yuzuru’s heart had remained closed to him and he had had to watch him from afar, concerned beyond what was reasonable in this conditions. He needed to focus.

              He didn’t want to have to comfort his lover for the third year in a row because he had failed to conquer his world title again but did not want to give it to him either. They were competitors and Javier wanted to keep at least that for himself, since apparently he was never good enough to beat Yuzuru outside of this specific championship.

              He would never admit it, but he wasn’t sure that he would be able to face himself ever again and to maintain a semblance of self-esteem and confidence in his abilities if he were to lose that last title, that string that kept him above young skaters. He was not ready yet to become completely irrelevant to the sport. It was already hard to be irrelevant compared to one person…

              Shaking his head, he was about to start running again when suddenly the entire building seemed to start shaking. His mind briefly wondered if that could be an earthquake but he quickly realized that it was only the crowd above him cheering for his partner and knew instantly that the Japanese man had pulled off the impossible once again. He went to the screen just on time to see the scores appear. 223.20. The highest score ever received for a free skate and the promise of a medal.

              He detached his gaze from the tear-striken face of his boyfriend to start warming up again. He couldn’t let his concentration shatter, no when he was so close. He still had over 10 points over the current leader on the short program and that could potentially make up for the difference in the base value of their skates, right?

              He knew without watching it, that Nathan had failed. The applause this time was much more reserved and the other ones around him had seemed to relax. Only four more skaters to go. Boyang, Patrick, Shoma and himself. He could still make it on the podium. He just needed another skate like the one on Thursday.

              He checked the rankings at the end of Boyang’s skate and sucked in a breath seeing that he had gotten over 300 points overall. The bar was high but he could still make it. When Tracy asked him how he felt, he lied. He was alright, focused and ready to fight. But inside his head, he could already feel his confidence collapse.

              Patrick went and failed which almost got his hopes up. But as he took the ice after Shoma’s skate, he heard his overall score. 319 points. He needed more than 210 points to overcome that score. He couldn’t do it; he was not like Shoma or like Yuzuru. He was just another skater with only three quads. He had correct components scores, he couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t remember exactly how the skate went outside of the voice that doubted him in his mind. He could feel that people were still overwhelmed by the two Japanese guys’ performances; they didn’t really care about what he had to offer. Or at least that’s what he thought. His first combination finished destroying his confidence and he was not surprised when his second quadruple Salchow ended up with him falling on his butt like he so often did in practice. And so what if his triple loop landing went wrong, he couldn’t even pretend to a medal anymore, could he?

              He took his bows, head hung low, and skated back to Brian while trying to pull himself together. He needed to pretend at least for now. He didn’t really pay attention to what was happening in the Kiss and Cry, didn’t notice Yuzuru applauding him, face shadowed by concern. What he did see was the 192.14 points of his skate and the little 4 appearing next to his total score. He felt Tracy stroking his back soothingly but he was already gone.

              He was finally done pretending he was good in the face of the world, Yuzuru had finally stopped handing him the crown, and he had retaken it. Javier’s role here was done. His irrelevance had never been as obvious as now, with him sitting there, two points away from the lowest point of the podium, more than twenty points away from Yuzuru. He was Javier Fernandez, three times Grand Prix Final medalist, a two-time world Champion and five times European Champion. But this year, he’d only medaled in his first two Grand Prix Assignments and in the European Championships. That could hardly be called an achievement, could it?

              He waited to be backstage to let his fake smile crumble. He didn’t care if anyone saw him now, he was done pretending for tonight, and he just craved some comfort. What he wanted most was for his boyfriend to come over and tell him that he was still a good skater, that he was loved and that he would bounce back. He just hoped that Yuzuru would do that. But of course, before everything, the new world champion had to attend the victory ceremony and the press conference and Javi could just pace, alone in the mixed zone.

              He was doing just that, admiring the traffic jam currently in formation in the corridor when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned around to be faced by the person he had wanted to see the most, smiling softly at him. The dark-haired man took his shiny new gold medal away and put it around the neck of his partner, making sure he brushed his cheek unbeknownst to the media around them before taking him in his arms.

“You are still my champion, Javi. You did great, I am proud of you.” Said the Japanese in his best English while taking his in his arms.

              They hugged and Javier felt tears threatening to spill out. He felt calmer hugging the man he loved, being told he was not worthless, that he was still respected by the one who mattered the most. Relief washed over him and he could remember saying those exact words when their situations were reversed. He did not feel like everything was better, did not forget his disappointment, the bitter taste lingering on his tongue, but now, he let himself enjoy the feeling of his partner against him. He would train harder and fight for this medal again. He would tear it away from Yuzuru’s neck and would stand proud again. He now understood why Yuzuru had cried in his arms on the day of his first victory in Shanghai. He felt the same conflicting emotions of pride and bitterness. He longed for his title but couldn’t be prouder of the one who had taken it from him.

              Yuzuru let him go and smiled warmly to him, his eyes shining with what could only be love. Smiling like an idiot, the Spaniard took the medal’s ribbon in his hand and placed it back where it belonged, curled around the Japanese man’s throat, the gold pendant resting on his torso. They shared one last look before Yuzuru had to go to his next interview and Javier was left once again facing the media, waiting for him to explain what had happened.

              It was way too late when he finally got back to his room. His mood had worsened as the evening kept unraveling. The Spanish journalists had followed him all day long to comment on his failure, reminding him that this competition was usually the only one where he always had success. Brian had had to help him escape or he would have started yelling or crying, he didn’t know yet. They had grabbed some dinner with Tracy, Gaby and Elizabeth, Yuzuru’s seat staying empty. Apparently his country’s media was not yet ready to let him go. The girls had kept talking excitedly about their programs and their plans for the off-season and no one had really realized that Javier had been silent, thinking once again about his failed program and his future. If he couldn’t even keep this one medal, should even try earning an Olympic one next year? Should he retire now, while he was still close to the top, before he became laughing stock?

              He knew these were stupid thoughts, one competition alone was not an indicator for his entire career but he couldn’t push these thoughts away and started to freak out internally. What would he do if he was not skating? Would he stay in Toronto? Would he be able to stay with Yuzuru?

              He ended up excusing himself to go sulk in his room. No one deserved to be exposed to his insecurities right now. He just needed to pull himself together, to regain his self confidence. And he needed Yuzuru to do exactly what he had done the last two years, to come over and distract him, to help him out of this dark abyss they both experienced after a disastrous competition.

              It was already ten o’clock and there was still no sign of the Japanese man, no text, no call, no note left under his door. Javier texted him, asking about his whereabouts and if, maybe, he would mind coming to see him tonight, that he needed him right now.

              He remembered the year before, how he had held Yuzuru while he was crying all his pent up frustration out, how he had exposed his disappointment for Javier to see. How they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms in the early morning, both relishing in the other’s presence. It may not have been the celebration Javier had wanted but his partner had needed that and he had not hesitated being there for him.

              In the morning, he had woken up to Yuzuru caressing his torso sweetly, speaking to himself in Japanese in a low, singing voice. They had kissed slowly, tenderly. The Japanese boy had then stared into Javier’s eyes and had taken a deep breath.

“I am thankful that you are here, you know? Yesterday I feel so lonely on the ice, so tired. I could not do well because I hurt so much and I tried but it don’t work. I felt so bad, like I betray the people who believe in me. But you always believe in me and tell me I am better than I think. I don’t know what I would do without you. I love you, Javi.”

              The kissed they had shared after that had been filled with sweetness, with love and with so much hope that they had both known they would be alright in the end. They could rely on each other; they would be there for each other.

              But would they? One year later, Javier was left to go to sleep alone, assaulted by his insecurities, wishing nothing more than to go back in time and take that medal, if that meant that Yuzuru would be here with him, holding him, telling him he loved him. His heart ached and he could not stop his eyes from watering up. He had disappointed so many people today, but most of all himself and he needed his lover to change his mind, to tell him that he would be alright. Was it so much to ask for? Why was it that he was only Yuzuru’s everything when the younger one had nothing else to hold onto?

              When the morning came to find Javier still awake and still torturing himself, it brought with it a text from the Japanese man and another layer of disappointment to the Spaniard.

From Yuzu: Sorry, fell asleep after dinner with Shoma and Mai. Too tired to come to your room, needed the sleep. See you at gala practice?

              If the older man shed a few tears after reading the text, no one would know. After all, if his boyfriend didn’t care, who would? He had to learn to pull himself together alone since no one else would care enough to help him. When he went to practice, he pretended to have slept well and to not care about missing the podium. He goofed around with the others, smiled for pictures and laughed way too much. The one he didn’t talk to, however, was Yuzuru. He couldn’t bring himself to look at him, let alone pretend that they were fine.

              And the other didn’t come to him either, not during the gala, or during the final banquet. He flew out of Finland in the early morning not having spoken to his partner who was still there with Brian, heartbroken and having made a decision. He would take this kind of treatment no more. This had to end. He just had to find the right time to do so.

              The TV was blaring in Javier’s apartment and the blinding light it was shedding lit up the form of Effie on his couch. The program it was playing was a replay of the gala following the 2014 Grand Prix Final. It was his guilty pleasure to go back to this footage, seeing Yuzuru’s bright face as he introduced him in what was supposed to be Spanish to the Catalan crowd. He loved to notice the first signs of their feelings, the gazes that lingered for two long, the smiles they only had for the other, the fond intonations in their voices. The touching was also so obvious he couldn’t possibly wonder how people had first thought about them being together. Whatever the frame, Javier had a hand on Yuzuru’s neck, on his hip, between his shoulder blades…

              Watching the old footage always made him feel a soft nostalgia of a time that was so much easier. In 2014, when they had yet to discuss their feelings, their love had been easy and transparent, expressed in soft reassurances and praises to the world. A love to bloom and yet stronger than ever, the paradox of their relationship. It was during that phase of uncertainty that Javier had been most sure about his feelings and he had doubted Yuzuru’s the least during the first six months. He didn’t understand what had happened for such a promising bond to have gone so wrong so fast.

              It wasn’t that they were in a rotten relationship, hating each other a little after their second anniversary. Javier could honestly he was still in love with Yuzuru. It still took his breath away to see the lanky body abandoning itself to the music of his blades on the ice. He still felt the butterflies in his stomach when he got that special smile from his lover after making a terrible joke, and there were so many instances of him wanting to claim the younger man in front of the world just because he couldn’t believe his luck. Javier was in love with Yuzuru like a madman. A folly that was slowly leading him to his downfall, he could see the path stretching in front of him.

              Yuzuru was bright and swift, soft and yet so strong and so determined. He had a will of iron and the ambition to match. Yuzuru wanted a legacy, wanted fame and recognition for the talent he had been gifted with and for all the hard work he provided. He dreamt of being the best to have ever been and did not pause on his route there, no matter what it took. He would spend countless hours hurting himself on the ice and then torturing his mind in his room just to get closer to that image of perfection he wanted to create. In his dream, there was no room for a partner, and only the deep connection he had with Javier had made him open up to someone. He cared about the Spaniard, they both knew it, but they also knew that it wasn’t enough for Javier.

              Javier was more relaxed in his work. He loved the freedom he felt on the ice, the rush of adrenaline he got standing alone in front of a crowd knowing he had the power to blow their minds. He loved hearing them chanting his name. However, this was not what he aspired for. Figure skating was his job and he loved every minute of it, but, to him, there was more to life than the scratch of steel on frozen water. There was love, and companionship in every way. There was care and fun. Javier loved to be surrounded by those he loved, in Spain and in Canada. He had more than enough friends and he cherished every minute spent with them. As stupid as it may sound, Javier’s goal was to be happy and he knew how to achieve that. He needed people around him, needed a job that let him express everything he couldn’t quite say, but above all, he needed to be valued and loved.

              Their relationship was then the perfect trap for both of them. They loved the other fiercely, they cared about him without condition. What should have been the basis of a strong bond made them both more vulnerable, more insecure. They did care about the other but not in the way they wanted to be cared for. Yuzuru wanted to be pushed and challenged, wanted someone to fuel his burning ambition while letting him be independent. Javier wanted someone to make him feel secure and safe, a relationship built on trust, love and support. Their status as competitors further complicated the situation. They wanted to move together but in different directions, and, on their way, they kept hurting the other, Javier could see it, he felt it.

              It had taken him months, after Osaka, to realize that, maybe, he was not as irrelevant as he thought he was, if only he didn’t compare himself to Yuzuru. That, blinded by his love and admiration for his partner, he had forgotten his own worth. And knowing that Yuzuru would not stop on his way to greatness to help him recover his self-esteem, he had come to understand the only solution for them not to destroy the other. It hurt, to love someone so much and to know that for the both of you, the best would be to let go. It had kept him awake at night feeling like he hadn’t tried enough, hadn’t made enough compromises. In the end, those doubts had further confirmed his gut feeling. He had to go.

              Effie meowed and tore him away from his thoughts. His eyes left the screen and the images of a past he no longer recognized as his own. Taking his head in his hands, Javier sighed. Tonight was the night he would put an end to their sufferings. It would be incredibly hard, to part ways with the man he loved and still see him every day, but he was caging him and each day of captivity made him feel worse.  Tonight they would go on their way to happiness and greatness while not dragging someone forcefully behind.

              And, of course, Yuzuru seemed to have decided not to come home. It was almost nine o’clock and Javier had had time to cook dinner for both of them and put it away. He had set up the table and watched a good chunk of the gala. Sighing, he got up and went to wash some dishes, cursing the day they had decided to adopt different training schedules to better prepare for the Olympics. While Javier had trained on ice in the early morning (he hated early practices) and had gone to the studio to dance and do some more off-ice training in the late afternoon, Yuzuru had started the day by studying for his university classes before going to the studio over lunch break and had started on the ice mid-afternoon for three hours at the club. He should have been back about two hours ago as he had done for the past six months, competition weeks excluded. He hadn’t called to warn either.

              He was elbow-deep in water when the door opened, startling him out of his thoughts. From the corner of his eyes he could see a silhouette clad in black taking off its coat and shoes before tiptoeing towards the kitchen. Two arms snaked around his waist and Yuzuru let his head rest against Javier’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” he said in a soft, tired voice. “Brian and I talked about quad Lutz to say if I want it in Olympic program and it takes long time but needs to done because we only have month before the games.”

              His soft lips planted a sweet kiss on Javier’s cheek and the Spaniard felt like melting. Instinctively, he leaned in the embrace and had to prevent himself from kissing the light out of his partner. It would not be fair to do so just before breaking up.

“You mad?” asked Yuzuru. “I’m sorry, I know it is my turn to cook and I very late and I see you cooked. I make up with mousse tomorrow?”

Javier snorted. Mad was not exactly what he felt. Mad was when Effie peed on his training outfit. Mad was when Brian passed his nerves on him because everyone else was making his job harder for him. Mad was when he couldn’t see Yuzuru for weeks because his country requested he come back for any kind of event. What he truly felt, deep inside was heartbreak.

              Then, he bit his tongue. He had planned a speech, had been working on it for months and been postponing it forever. All these lonely nights he had spent working on the best way to end a loving but unhealthy relationship, and yet he couldn’t produce a sound right now, let alone form a coherent point about the state of their relationship. Breathing deeply, he started the worst way possible.

“Cariño, we need to talk.”

              Yuzuru let out a shaky laugh, kissing his shoulder, clearly confused and not helped by the fact that he couldn’t see Javier’s face properly, couldn’t try to figure out what all of this was about. He took a step back and leaned against the counter to try and decipher his lover’s expression only to find him biting his lip and staring at his soap-covered hands.

              He had once dreamt of this situation, standing in his apartment with his friend and training mate kissing him good evening, holding him tight like he truly mattered. He had dreamt of living of his passion, of skating his heart out all day long. And somehow, this ideal had been twisted in the cruelest joke. He had everything but the full affection and attention of the man he loved and their lives were so intertwined that every breath he took reminded him of this.

“Javi?” The younger one’s voice was low and worried, his hands were shaking him.

              He could do this. He had to, for both of them. They could not keep living a lie without any meaning. Their eyes locked for a moment and the Spaniard thought he had read worry and love in the dark eyes of his lover before he caught himself. He would not back down.

“Mind if we go sit in the living-room? We need to talk and it might take a while.” His voice wavered slightly but he knew it wouldn’t matter.

“What is it? You scare me.” was the only answer he got.

              He sighed and took Yuzuru’s wrist between his fingers, trying not to think about how the contact still seemed to create a spark between them more than two years after their first kiss. They both went next room where Javier pushed his partner to sit on the couch while he took a chair, trying to not pay any attention to the confused face before him.

“Cariño… I think we should break up. I know it’s very sudden and quite brutal but I need us to return to being strangers.”

              Yuzuru looked at him, trying to make sense of his words, his little face scrunched up as it had often been when he’d first come to train with them in Toronto, when his English was still terrible and he had struggled to understand the most basic sentence on the first go. Staring at Yuzuru’s face, some two years later, seeing his unreadable face, he felt once again the voices in his head become wild. He heard them calling him names, stating all the things that made his partner too good for him. They reminded him why he was doing that.

Javier’s mind was screaming, begging Yuzuru to start expressing his feeling, to show any kind of emotion, any sign that would contradict his own fears that the guy didn’t love him, supplicating him to show that he cared, that he wanted him to stay. That they would work this out. It wouldn’t take too many negotiations for Javier to back down, to run to him to hold him in his arms. He was already aching for the touch of his lover, for his reassurance.

“Why?” asked the Japanese, his voice strangely stable and emotionless. “I do something wrong?”

              Yes! Supplied Javier’s mind, ask me why, tell me out of doing this, change my mind. He did not say any of that, instead, he tried to gather his feelings in a couple sentences that would make sense for the both of them in the context of their relationship, something that would explain all his pent up sadness, all the insecurities he’d been nursing through their relationship.

“You didn’t do anything wrong per see,” he started. He hated the English language; he wished he could have spoken Japanese so he would be so much easier to understand for his lover. “but this,” he pointed between the two of them, “is not working out. You and I… We are not exactly working in the same direction. You are training so hard and I know that you are aiming for history but me… You know what I want… I just want you and me, growing old together, having a quiet, lovely life filled with love and lazy mornings. And I can’t have that with you. That’s just not who you are, you are a fighter and I am nothing but a distraction.” He saw Yuzuru opening his mouth but he shut him up with a hand, not ready to stop talking. “I am a hobby to you, the brilliant Yuzuru Hanyu, your sweet, funny, lame sidekick, I am irrelevant for you, I bring you nothing and you… I don’t blame you, you probably tried, but you do not love me the way I need to be loved. You are my everything but I am never yours. And I don’t think I can keep hurting that way.”

              Had Javier raised his head to look at his partner, he would have found him shedding silent tears, trying to stay quiet, understanding that, maybe, they were not meant to be, that he couldn’t be good enough for Javi and that letting go would probably allow both of them to thrive towards their goals and achieve them. He would have seen Yuzuru’s heart break right in front of his eyes. But he was busy wiping his tears, debating whether to say the rest of his planned speech. After long minutes of silence, he did.

“I have always respected and admired you know. You were always so elegant, so mesmerizing, and so radiant. Once you stepped in a room, nobody could tear their eyes away from you. And still today, after all these years, once you arrive, nobody exists anymore. We are all just a crowd of admirers, no matter how good on the ice we are. You made us look like fools like juniors. And we all accepted it, because who are we to challenge Yuzuru Hanyu, Olympic gold medalist, two times world champion, four, sorry, five times winner of the Grand Prix final and greatest skater of all times?

But you know what, Yuzu? We were wrong all of us. The media, the audience, the other skaters. You are not a god. You may outshine us; you may be so bright you blind most of us, but you are not the only skater to watch. We may not all be as good as you are but you are not untouchable and we are not clueless against you. Did you ever think of the destructive way you talked about your good performances? Saying it was never enough and how we all felt hearing that you, who had broken another world record, were disappointed? How stupid we all felt about our 90 points short programs?

I am done feeling inferior to you, Yuzu. Did you ever realize how much you limited us all? How you limited me? I have always been in your shadow, being nothing but the goofy training partner of Yuzuru Hanyu. You never corrected that. But now I am done existing by you. I used to be a respected skater, a talented one, but with you, I forgot who I was… I would like to say that I don’t blame you because you never asked for it but I do and I am sorry. I need time away for you because you only bring me pain and self-doubt. I need us to become strangers once again so I can prove to myself I can still exist without you.”

              His voice broke and heavy sobs filled the otherwise silent room. Yuzuru still had anything to say but he did not seem in a rush to do so. The silence reminded Javier of all the times Yuzuru had gone away without warning him, all the times he had disappeared for five days only for his lover to learn that the Japanese was currently filming a commercial in Tokyo and would be back two weeks later. And it reminded him of that time he had done the same only to prove to himself that actually, he being here or not had never changed Yuzu’s life.

He had tried, for more than a year. He had tried telling himself that Yuzuru loved him and treated him the way he wanted and deserved to be treated, but he could not forget all the times it hadn’t been the case. He was done being the only one trying; he was done suffering in silence to let his idol of a lover be happy. He had suffered too much, had gone through too much, head bowed, to continue like this. He knew he deserved to be happy and in a healthy relationship. He had to do that, no matter how much it hurt now, it would get better. He could learn to love again, could learn to respect himself again.

So why did he feel like this was a mistake?

              He heard movement but could not raise his head. He didn’t want to show his weakness to the man he loved. It hadn’t been his fault, in the end, if their relationship had not worked out. They had had different expectations for their lives and had chosen the other as a shot in the dark. It hurt, that their love, or at least Javier’s, would not be enough to make them happy and keep them happy together. They just had different ways to love, and while Javier gave his entire heart, Yuzuru had always seemed to keep is in check or even hidden.

              He felt two arms snaking around his shoulder, pressing his face against the crook of Yuzuru’s neck. A hand was rubbing his back and a warm voice was already saying nonsense in his ear in what he was sure, was Japanese, not English. He felt the temptation to close his arms around the other man’s body, to let himself go in this comforting gesture, but he could not be tricked into thinking that this was the gesture of a lover, that was just Yuzuru being his nice self, so he tore away from the embrace.

“No.” He said firmly.

              Finally looking up, he saw the hurt in his friend’s eyes, the feeling of rejection. He could almost hear his brain screaming in incomprehension. When the Japanese man leaned in again, he put a hand on his chest, keeping him away.

“Your head is not clear; you make wrong decision because you are mad and tired. We talk about this tomorrow when you are rested.” Tried to say the younger man, looking a bit lost and worried.

              Javier wanted to laugh like a maniac. Tonight was probably the first night when he was actually second guessing his decision. Yuzuru seemed to be afraid, worried and hurt and all he wanted to do was to take him in his arms and comfort him. Tell him he loved him and kiss him until they were both out of breath and desperate for the other to prove that claim, desperate to let their bodies break that language barrier between them. So he compromised.

“I love you, Yuzu…” He said in a little voice. “And I hate myself for that. We need to stop or we’ll hurt each other… I mean that you will hurt me more and I’m not sure I can take it anymore. So, even if I love you, I want you to take your things and go away. I want to see you only at the rink when we have to. I want you to forget me. Keep on with your life, achieve your dreams and I’ll make do on my own.”

“Javi…” Yuzuru began but the Spaniard needed to hold on that decision.

“No, don’t speak please…” He needed to remind himself of why he was doing that. And to do so, he had a very good weapon in the name of his Osaka trip and the feeling of being lonely and irrelevant and so utterly defeated.

“I have a question for you, Yuzu… I need you to tell me the truth, without lying, without pretending.”

“Tell me.”

“Have you ever felt like there was nothing that mattered more than me? Have you ever felt so in love you didn’t know what to do with yourself? Have you ever thought that, maybe, you could let your ambition down for a moment for me? Because I have felt that way for you ever since we started being great friends. The first time I realized it, it was during the Cup of China, back in 2014. I only had a crush on you at that time, but you were already the most important thing for me. And I was in Toronto, streaming the event and I saw you lying on the ice, not being able to get up. I saw the blood and heard people screaming. You have no idea how scared I was how I wished I were with you to hold you while they took care of you. I only got the information everyone else had, I had to see you skate though you were obviously not feeling well, not knowing if you would be okay in the end.

And then we were together and you told me you loved me and my heart leapt. You could have asked me anything, still could, and I would have done it. I would have given up skating for you, had you asked for it. But would you? I wouldn’t ask you because I want you to be happy, but I also know that you would choose skating and your legacy over me and it hurts. Because do you truly love someone if you cannot see they want more?

You have never given me the kind of love I craved, and I tried to accept it, try to go on with what I had and to hell if I felt worse and worse every day, if I felt like I was not worth anything to you. But I cannot do it anymore and I need to move on. Still, I want you with all I have, I want your love. But do you feel the same? Could you put your ambition on hold for us? Not give up your dreams, just work with me on making us both happy? Could you give your everything for us, if only to make sure we can keep going?”

              He saw Yuzuru’s face freeze in an expression of deep sorrow. Tears were freely escaping his beautiful dark eyes and the answer was made obvious.

“Javi…” Yuzuru’s voice was thick with despair. “You know I love you…”

“Tell me.”

              Only the silence could be heard and Javier felt his heart shatter in his chest. There was nothing more to say, no escape, no solution. They had different goals, different aspirations, and it didn’t matter if they loved each other, that would not be enough. And it hurt so much to know that they would have to part ways and deal with their pain on their own, that no one around them would know or understand, except for Yuzuru’s mother who had always known since her son had basically moved out and lived at his lover’s place half of the time.

“No,” whispered Yuzuru. “I cannot promise that. I wish I could.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore then, does it?”

“I am sorry Javi. I do love you.”

“Please stop saying that, it’s not helping…” sighed Javier, trying to prevent himself to starting to cry again.

“Don’t make me go…” Asked Yuzuru in a low voice. “Please…”

              Javier took a deep breath. He could not surrender, could not put himself second anymore, he had to break the ties now, while he still had the courage to do what was best for them no matter how much it cost him, no matter how much he loved the man facing him.

“You can’t say that Yuzu… We can’t go on, please understand that,” he hated to beg for such a thing. “You have to let me go before we start hating each other...”

“I will not never…”

 “I will if we can’t change what we have. So please, we both know I ask too much out of you…”

              The sobs that came next to him were like as many knives piercing his heart and his eyes started watering again. That was too hard; he could not do it… He was about to say something stupid when Yuzuru started talking again.

“I am sorry, Javi… I don’t want to hurt you… I will do as you want.” Another miserable sob escaped his lips and the Spaniard saw his lover wipe his eyes furiously, trying to be strong. “Can I borrow a suitcase? Mine is at home. I need to take my things…”

              Javier took a deep breath and nodded. The Japanese seemed to have understood his reluctance to help him gather his belongings because he escaped to the bedroom to fetch his suitcase and his clothes. The other one was left in the living room, trying to compose himself again. Rustling could be heard in the bedroom and he could even swear that sobs resonated in the empty space.

              Ironically, he had never believed that Yuzuru loved him more than he did tonight, hearing both of their heart breaking and knowing they couldn’t change anything. They loved each other but in ways that were so different that neither could be happy forever after. He walked to the bedroom, waiting at the doorstep and what he saw made him second guess his decision once again.

              Yuzuru had sat down on the bed, a hand over his mouth to muffle his sobs, the other one grabbing the bed sheets to the point of turning his joints white. His lithe body shook and Javier wished he could cross the room and take the young man in his arms and tell him that this may have been a mistake, that they would try harder, that he could take it. But an invisible force kept him away. He turned away and made tea to keep his hands busy. It didn’t help him that he had bought the leaves to accommodate Yuzuru who absolutely refused to drink coffee and was quite cranky if he didn’t get his black, litchi-flavored tea first thing in the morning.

He was pouring boiling water on the leaves when he heard a voice behind him. “I think I have everything.”

“Want some tea before you have to go?” Offered Javier, not yet ready to see the man he loved cross the doorstep, suitcase in hand.

He only got a worried look and a sharp nod as an answer so he turned again and filled the second mug, hands shaking. He spilled some next to the cup but he finished his task and set the kettle down. He grabbed both mugs and handed one to Yuzuru who took it carefully, set it down and took one single step closer. His red-rimmed eyes shone with a weird light, one that Javier could not read.

              He seemed about to say something but finally decided against it, stepped back, took his cup, avoiding Javier’s eyes. Carefully, he took the strainer out and set it down. He eyed the drink as if it held the answer to all his questions and started sipping it. The heavy, awkward silence that reined over them made Javier want to scream. He was in his kitchen with the man he loved and could not even make conversation because what else was there to be said?

              They stayed like this for a moment, and if, in his precipitation to leave, Yuzuru burnt his tongue, neither made a comment. They drank, not even daring to look at the other. After a few minutes, the Japanese brought his cup to the sink and started washing it, without Javier saying a thing. He wanted to both kiss the man until they would both lose their heads and see him leave. He wanted everything and its contrary because he knew what he wanted to do but also what had to be done.

“I think I must go.” Finally said Yuzuru, staring at the wall behind Javier.

“Maybe you should, yes. The last train back to your place is in half an hour.”

“If I forget something…”

“I’ll bring it to the rink.” finished Javier. “If you know what, text me.”

“Okay. I’ll go now.”

“Okay.”

              Yuzuru left the kitchen and fetched his –Javier’s- suitcase in the living room. He threw a last glance around, sighed, wiped a tear that had escaped his eyes and was approaching the door when Javier felt a sudden urgency in his guts, a need to do one last thing.

“Yuzu!” He exclaimed and his now former lover turned around, raw hopes shining on his face. “Can I?”

“Yes.”

              He closed the distance between them, placed a hand on the nape of the other’s neck and kissed him slowly, lovingly. They both knew, from the taste of it that it would be a farewell kiss, full of hopes, of silent prayers that the other would be happy, that they would both recover. It was an apology for all they could not give the other, for the way they hard hurt him unintentionally and for all their lost dreams. It was a last profession of their love and it left them both breathless and a bit more desperate.

“I am sorry, Javi. I do love you. Goodbye.”

              Javier was only processing what had happened that the door had closed behind the other man, on their relationship. He was left alone in an apartment that had been the décor of most of their relationship, where every object, every piece of furniture had a story of the both of them. And everything that was not there anymore was just another part of that story they had lived for two years and four months.

              But somehow, despite his broken heart and despite everything he felt he would miss, Javier knew he would be alright. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but he would be alright. And so would Yuzuru. They now were both free to thrive toward their dreams, freed of trying while there was no hope. They both had a new life to live. There was no more comparison between them, no more feeling of irrelevance, Javier would live for himself, compare himself to his past self and stop second-guessing himself, he made that vow to himself.