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The changing room was empty, which was unusual for a Wednesday afternoon.

In truth, Javier was quite late, but his schedule had matched the end of practice for Sam and Édouard for weeks now, and he didn’t recall hearing about a change in the hours of his fellow trainees.

Coffee still in hand, expensive blades covered by protectors to his feet, he entered the arena as subtlety as possible. The accusing side-eye from his coach accompanied by an explicit glance at the clock did not, however, greet him today, to add to the oddness of the situation.

Javier knew better than to draw attention on himself now.

He swiftly withdrew himself to the left stands, where he spotted Sam, Édouard, and a couple others hanging out. As he got closer, he noticed Maya, whom he did know was supposed to be training on the rink right now, just like him, and had no reason to stay on the sidelines.

Sam was the only one to spare him a quick look as he heard Javier’s confused greeting.

“The prodigy finally decided to skate properly”, he explained, pointing at the ice with a chin movement.

Javier focused his gaze on the single figure sliding on the rink.

“About time.”

A glance at the time on his phone was enough for him to miss the reason of a series of enthusiastic gasps around him.

“Did you see that?” Maya slapped him on the arm. “Did you?”

“What? What happened?”

Coach Brian was raising a fist in the air, voice loud, generous in praise, as the boy on the ice gave a few fast strokes to join him on the edge of the rink.

“His triple axel,” Maya explained, “it’s the third one he nailed in a row. Brian is ecstatic.”

“I think he’s about to cry”, Sam added.

Javier couldn’t help but to join in the couple chuckles. The poor coach was now gesticulating, as usual, trying to make himself understood by the Japanese boy. Even from such a distance, Javier didn’t have any trouble picturing the quizzed smile the kid offered him in exchange for all his effort, accompanied by the repeated iconic shorts bows of his, like he was trying to bang his forehead against a perpetual air wall.

“Understandable,” said Maya. “I think he really was beginning to lose hope.”

It had been about three weeks since the kid moved all the way from Japan to Toronto to train with Brian, and although Javier never really got to practice in the same time-slots as the so-called prodigy, it was now common knowledge that the results had not been very concluding. If anything, the exhausted red face Brian pulled out after every lesson with him, as well as the hand he repeatedly rubbed against his face whenever the boy was mentioned, were clear enough to tell.

“Look,” Édouard elbowed Javier gently to get him to look at his phone, “I got the jump on snapchat.”

Javier frowned at the caption on the screen. “Is that really how you spell his name?”

Édouard shrugged. “Who cares. Look at that landing, woah!” Javier shook his head in bored agreement.

“Fernandez, Laplante!” Maya and Javier jumped at the sudden calling. “Why the hell aren’t you on the ice already?”

“Oops,” Javier gulped down the rest of his lukewarm coffee as Maya scrambled to take off her jacket. “Better hurry.”

And as they passed the boy who was getting to the changing rooms, bowing deeply to say hi, both Maya and Javier found themselves mimicking with an awkward smile a semblance of the over-polite gesture. They exchanged a look and busted in quiet giggles once he was finally gone. 

“Let’s go,” Brian clapped, “three basic steps sequences for starters. Got no time to lose.”

Javier took off his blade protectors and hoped whatever good mood Brian was on right now because of his prodigy would last long enough for him not to get yelled at for not practicing what he had to.

About a week later, while Javier was warming up on his side of the rink, the doors of the arena opened with a crash that made everyone look up.

“Ah, Yuzuru,” said Brian. He glanced at his watch before adding: “That’s the time you choose to join us?”

Brian’s humor, as general, did not seem to be able to cross the barrier of language. The disheveled and out-of-breath boy bowed as Brian tried to get the fragments of sentences he was trying to articulate in his broken English.

“Sorry very, very much,” was what Javier caught. “I lost, I take the wrong train. Two hours.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s okay,” Brian said softly, patting him awkwardly on the back. “But it’s past twelve now.” The kid looked at him with wide eyes. “Practice is over.”

“But I don’t ―” The kid sounded almost panicked, pleading. “I not ― I lost.”

Brian sighed. “I understand, but there are other skaters―”

Javier quickly glanced away, pretending to be concentrated on his stretching. Whatever Brian saw while looking at him and Maya on the ice seemed to make him think in silence for a couple seconds.

“Okay, let’s give it a shot,” he declared. “It’s going to be a little cramped, but, hey, whatever. Just put your skates on ― oh, you’ve already got them ― okay.”

Javier raised his head to see the kid already doing backwards rink rides, both hands clasped in front of his chest, ‘thank you’s’ flowing out of him, to Brian, to Maya, to David, and even to Javier, who all, frankly, did not have a say in whatever allowed him to practice with them.

How could one be so enthusiastic to practice indoors on a sunny Wednesday would stay a mystery to him, but whatever.

“You look a little more intense, today,” Maya stated as she stroked by Javier, an hour or so later. Javier frowned as he wiped the back of his neck.

“Is that supposed to be bad?”

Maya shrugged. “Just unusual. Crazy what a little added competition can do to your skating.”

“Please,” Javier felt himself roll his eyes. “That kid is no competition.”

Maya made a face. “Won’t he do seniors this year? That’s the same category as yours.”

Javier eyed the swift sequence the boy was running, arms extended to his sides, body in just-perfect equilibrium to keep the gravity from pulling him down completely. The barely kept balance filled his movements with a suspense that made it hard to take your eyes off him. Javier did anyway.

“It takes more than one secure axel to compete with the seniors,” Javier said, although as he did, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Speaking of the axel, as on cue, the kid executed another perfect one. Javier squinted his eyes and ignored the chuckle Maya hid behind her hand.

“Excuse me,” he said, legs powering a few strokes to get back to the middle of the rink, “got to go back.”

The silence that followed in the men’s changing room afterwards was not unusual to Javier, but the presence of somebody else made it slightly awkward.

“So,” Javier opened his mouth, already regretting it, “just so we’re clear, is your first name actually Hanyu or Yuzuru?”

The kid raised his eyes as he kept unlacing his skates. He looked uncomfortable, and Javier felt bad. He attempted to justify his confusion.

“It’s just that, sometimes in competition, they’d say Hanyu first ― and in newspapers― but Brian says Yuzuru, so we ― I mean, I just…”

The kid looked at him, waiting until he was done. 

“Hanyu is my family name.” he said finally, each word weirdly pronounced with his thick accent. Javier blinked.

“So, people, in general, they call you Yuzuru? Or is that impolite?” Yuzuru only frowned, but Javier insisted, making sure to get rid of this uneasiness to the most of his ability. “I’ll call you that. Is it okay?”

He waited for a proper answer a little too long. Yuzuru appeared to feel his gaze on him, as he kept giving him quick glances before going straight back to looking at his shoes. Javier got impatient.

“Is that okay?” he repeated, with emphasis on each word.

Yuzuru blinked. “What is okay?”

Javier sighed and saw Yuzuru shrink a little. That proceeded to annoy him even more. He mentally promised himself not to make fun of Brian for exhausting himself all the time to get the kid to understand him.

“Awesome,” Javier simply said, putting his blades over his shoulders. “Uh, I guess I’ll see you next time, Yuzuru.”

He did not have to glance back again to imagine the bow Yuzuru gave him as he exited, not bothering to prevent the door of the changing room from clacking. 

“Javier, can we talk for a quick second?” Brian had said the next morning, and Javier knew something was up. He glanced at Maya, hoping to get a supportive look in return, but she seemed suspiciously too busy doing spins to notice him. Javier left the rink and sat on the bleachers next to his coach.

He took a sip of water as he waited for Brian to say what was on his mind. Luckily, neither of them liked beating around the bush.

“I really enjoyed yesterday’s practice”, the coach stated simply. “Did you?”

“Yeah, ‘was fine.”

“Pretty fine. We got to settle that quad that bothered us for so long.”

With Brian, ‘we’ meant ‘you’. Javier nodded.

“Listen,” Brian said, looking at him in the eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it for quite a while now, but I wanted to talk about it with you first.” He waited a second. “I want Yuzuru to train in the same slots as you.”

Javier blinked. “Like yesterday?”

“Like yesterday. But all the time.” Brian tilted his head to the side, reconsidering. “Expect Fridays, of course.”

Javier tried to shake away the feeling of instant disapproval that seized him. “What about Maya?”

“She’s been asking me for a while now to reschedule her sessions to the morning. Says she’s more productive.”

Javier casted a quick glare at Maya’s back, then glanced down at his water bottle. He took a few seconds to articulate an answer that would sound other than plainly rude.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

Brian gave him a soft look. “Why?” When Javier didn’t respond for a few seconds, he nudged him lightly on the arm. “Hey, just tell me, Javi. That’s precisely why I went to speak with you first. Tell me what’s wrong.”

The thing was ― that Javier had no idea. He just felt weird about it all. About leaving Maya, about change in general. About the awkward, lanky, and overly talented Japanese boy. Brian had asked him, before Yuzuru even came, if it was okay for him to coach the both of them. Javier had said yes without hesitation. The thought of actually training with Yuzuru Hanyu had never crossed his mind as part of the deal.

“I mean,” he tried, “Heard he’ll be going for the seniors this year.”

Brian nodded. “Is that the problem?”

Javier shrugged. “I don’t know. Won’t it be, I don’t know, a bit weird?”

“How?”

“Like, with the competition, and stuff. Won’t it be ― I don’t know? Stressful?” He was not really sure he believed it, but it was worth a shot. “With, like, the pressure?”

Brian squinted, and Javier knew he had misstep.

“And what do you think practices are for, Javier?” he inquired. “Relaxation?”

“Hm, no, but―”

“No, listen,” said Brian, “I’m just asking you to give it a try, okay? Let’s say, for a week?”

Javier scratched the back of his head. At this point, with the gentle tone his coach used, there was no way to refuse without sounding plain bratty.

“I really do believe it’ll be good for you, Javier,” Brian continued. “For the both of you. Look at how much progress we made yesterday ― you were totally fueled by his presence. But it wasn’t in a bad way. I really think you can inspire each other. Let’s just give it a try.”

Javier bit his lip. He could do one week.

“Why not.”

The first thing about Yuzuru Hanyu that Javier learned that week was that he was — intense.

No matter the time Javier would arrive to practice, early or late, he would always find the kid already on the ice, stretched, warmed up, practicing his current routines or ones Javier guessed were previous to his arrival in Toronto. It wasn’t that Javier was a terrible trainee, but being so blatantly put next to Yuzuru could do nothing but make him look bad to everyone’s eyes, even his own. He quickly found himself setting up his alarm a little earlier, repeating to himself that it was out of his own accord, and that anyway, he had been tired of quite literally running to practice everyday for a while now.

Apart from that, everything seemed to go pretty well. Javier would usually set up his sequences with David, the choreographer, while Yuzuru would take lessons from Brian, until they switched it up. Sometimes they would join for transition exercises, or would have the rink to themselves while the other was taking a break. It was, honestly, pretty much the same as it had been with Maya.

Javier would sometimes check the other out ―  not for the same reasons he checked out Maya, with her stretchy colored leggings ― but out of sheer curiosity, mixed maybe with a little mean spirit too.

It was just that sometimes, after falling a couple jumps back-to-back, hearing the fresh cut of a perfect landing behind him gave him the push necessary to keep pushing and try again.

Things weren’t tense. They weren't, but they weren’t totally friendly either.

To be honest, apart from when Brian spoke to the both of them at the same time, they didn’t actually interact much.

That is, except for their fumbling attempts at awkward conversations in the locking room after practice.

“So, hm,” Javier scratched his neck, “how do find Canada so far?”

Yuzuru had looked slightly terrorized. “Oh. I ― Very nice.”

Javier nodded. He kept on going ― at least nobody could say he didn’t try. “Pretty cold, don’t you think?”

Yuzuru breathed air through a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Ah, yes. Cold.”

The conversation hadn’t gone any further ― did it ever had a chance at all? ― as Yuzuru had packed his things at the speed of light to exit the arena and get into that big, black car with the tanned windows that always waited for him outside.

So, yes. The English was bad. It wasn’t really a problem for Javier, who minded his own business, thank you very much, but it was a challenge in practice. Even if he tried his best not to peek, some misunderstandings were hard to ignore.

Especially when Brian directly asked for his help.

“Javier, I’m sorry, but for God’s sake,” he would sometimes say, as an absolute last resort. “Can you show him what a “Pancake spin” is? He keeps saying he’s not hungry.”

Javier would try his best not to show any sign of amusement and execute the figure in front of the sweaty, confused, and probably just as irritated other skater. “Yeah, yeah, okay,” would be Yuzuru's immediate and automatic answer, but since long now Javier understood too that that was far from meaning he understood anything.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, sorry.” And a bow.

Sometimes it would work, sometimes not. “He’s taking English classes,” Brian once explained to Javier after practice. “Working hard, you know. He’ll get better.” And Javier would nod, even thought he was pretty sure that, by saying so, what Brian was really trying to do was to give himself something to hold on to.

To be honest, Javier had no idea of what was the kid doing outside of the rink, if he was really studying English or not. Not that he could really do much― the training of an Olympic athlete did not leave a lot of space for anything else, as Javier could testify. He tried, half-heartedly, once or twice, to invite Yuzuru to eat something with other skaters from the club, thinking that maybe food could transcend words make the other feel somewhat included, but was always politely denied with quick head bows. As expected.

One of these nights, Édouard had rolled his eyes at Javier as he bit into his hamburger. “He thinks he’s too cool for us.”

Maya scoffed, and Javier frowned. “What?”

“Come on,” Maya smiled. “He’s three years younger than you, and can do most of your moves better than you ever could.” His obfuscation must have shown, because Édouard cackled next to him. “Don’t act like its news. He thinks we’re shit.”

“Got yourself duped into thinking you were admired, with all the bows?” Édouard added, mouth full. “You fool.”

Javier threw a cold fry at him. “You’re wrong. I don’t believe he thinks he’s so much better,” he argued. “I think he’s just shy about his terrible English. Japanese people are pretty humble, and stuff.”

Maya didn’t argue. “Well, you’re the one to know. You spend the most time with him.”

Édouard shook his head as he mouthed another ‘fool’.

Javier just ate another fry.

Once that week had rolled by , some day after practice, Javier stayed alone with Brian an extra half hour to repeat a problematic combination. As he was wiping the sweat out of his face, his coach had taken the occasion to ask him about his thoughts on the past week.

“I don’t want you to feel like it’s too much. I know that sometimes I ask you for your help, and if you think at some point it’s getting too heavy ―”

“Brian,” Javier chuckled. “That happened, like, two times.”

“You don’t mind it?”

Brian always made an effort not to disturb him during his routines, or when he saw he was really focusing. “No,” Javier said, and meant it. “I’m still laughing about the pancakes. Makes it entertaining,” he added, raising a shoulder.

Brian made a face. “Glad you think so,” he sighed, and Javier couldn’t help but laugh again. “If anything can bring your enthusiasm back, I’ll take it,” Brian added, but to that, Javier didn’t laugh.

He noticed in the changing rooms, later, without surprise, that Yuzuru was already long gone. All his stuff, neatly arranged near his locker. He was without a doubt the tidiest of all the male members of the club. Javier took a moment to clean his own spot. The Tim Hortons disposable coffee cups that piled themselves on the bench found their way into the garbage.

As he closed the lights and exited the room, reflecting on whether he maybe should have put them in the recycling bin instead, a strange view before the building's exit stopped him.

Yuzuru hadn’t left yet. Sitting at one of the table of the empty cafeteria, he was munching on what Javier assumed were chicken nuggets and looking absentmindedly on his phone.

There was something so strange, so casual about the way he was there. Alone, in jeans, with his bags next to him. He looked like a teenager, Javier thought, a normal one, and he failed to understand why picturing him that way felt so odd. His feet led him to the table without his mind fully registering why. He tapped the boy’s shoulder to get his attention.

“Thanks for waiting for me,” he joked, and Yuzuru looked up at him, startled. “It’s a joke,” he explained.

“Oh,” said Yuzuru. “Sorry.”

Javier smiled and looked at his phone. It had been about an hour since practice ended, and he couldn’t help but wonder.

“Your chauffeur forgot to come pick you up?”

“My what?”

“Chauffeur.” Javier mimed spinning a wheel. “You know, with the big black car.”

Yuzuru blinked. “My mom?”

“Ahh.” Javier felt silly. He made a face and scoffed. “Your mom still be driving you around?”

Yuzuru gave him a quizzed look, like he did when he didn’t know what answer was expected from him. “Yes.”

Point missed, but whatever. “She’s quite late, isn’t she? You’re waiting for her?” Yuzuru made a vague shoulder movement. Javier added: “Do you know where she even is?”

The other looked down on his phone. Javier caught a glimpse of characters and ideograms he couldn’t read, but by the look on the boy’s face, it wasn’t hard to deduce that he had no idea.

“Maybe she lost,” Yuzuru said quietly, like it wasn’t a big deal. “She has a appointment far.” He took a second, then decided to add: “Drive is so hard for her. She read English bad.”

Again, Javier felt stupid. He stood there, awkwardly, as Yuzuru resumed on eating his nuggets in silence. A few seconds passed.

“So, like, do you want me to drive you home?” he suggested.

Yuzuru looked back at him with wide, confused eyes and Javier repeated his question. “It’s no big deal,” he also added, “I have a car.”

Seeming to understand, Yuzuru straight away shook his head and declined, all bows and quiet thanks. “No, no, thank you, sorry.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, thank you. Mean ― no, sorry. But thank you.”

“I get it,” smiled Javier, trying play it cool and and shut him off. “I know you don’t want to hang out or anything, I was just asking.”

Yuzuru frowned, lips parting. He looked serious, and Javier felt like slapping himself ― out of the nothing Yuzuru usually understood of him, he had to stick on that.

“I don’t not want ―” Yuzuru tried, then tried again. “I want to hang out. Why you think this?”

“It’s okay,” Javier said. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I don’t not want to hang out with you.”

“It was a just joke.”

“Oh,” Yuzuru lowered his gaze instantly. “Sorry.”

“Hm ― it’s okay,” said Javier. “Don’t apologize.”

They stayed in silence for a few beats, before the boy opened his mouth again. “Most time, jokes, I don’t get,” he said simply, and something in Javier’s chest clenched.

“It’s okay ―” Javier couldn’t help himself, he felt too guilty hearing him apologize about his poor English once again. “I know it’s hard ―”

“Your accent is pretty bad,” said Yuzuru, and Javier closed his mouth.

What now?

“My accent?” he blinked.

“Yes,” the boy shook his head, sad eyes looking at him. “Very bad.”

“My accent,” he repeated, disbelieving, “is bad.”

This had to be a joke.

“Yes, yes, very,” repeated Yuzuru, and, okay, guess it wasn’t.

Coming from Yuzuru Hanyu, now, that was quite the insult.

Javier took his bag up from the floor and threw it over his shoulder. “Right,” he said, and yeah, that sounded a little bitter. “See ya’, Yuzuru.”

The boy looked at him with big, lost eyes.

“Tomorrow, yes?” he heard the boy’s expecting voice as he was walking to the automated doors. Then, as he left: “Goodbye!”

And the doors closed between them.

Now that his attention had been brought to it, Javier could really see it. How he would subtly shrink away from Javier or anyone when they got close to his side, like the last thing he wanted was physical contact with the unrefined. How he would cringe when Brian spoke too loudly too close to his face, and how he would mutter incomprehensible things in Japanese to himself afterwards on the ice.

Basically, how much of a pretentious brat he was.

“I can’t believe you’re mad about that”, Courtney’s blurred face told him through the screen of his phone. “That’s just the way his culture is, Javi.”

It was passed midnight, and Javier was lying on his back, still on the couch of his flat. With the jetlag and all, it was the only time he could be face-timing his girlfriend, who was on the other side of the world for a competition. He rubbed his tired face.

“That’s not being Japanese”, he argued. “That’s being pretentious. I’ve met a lot of Japanese before ― remember Haelin? She was sweet.”

“Haelin’s Korean.” She was twisting what appeared to be spaghetti around her fork.

“Anyway, point is ― I’ve met lots, and they weren’t all like this.” He heard Courtney scoff. “They adapt, you know. That what you’ve got to do when you decide to move countries.”

“You can’t be mad at him for being Japanese.”

“I’m mad at him for not trying to help it.”

Courtney shook her head as she was chewing on her pasta. “How do you know? I mean, that he’s not trying.”

“He doesn’t go out,’ Javier brought the phone closer to his face for emphasis. “And when he does ― never ― he has a damn translator. Can you believe that?”

Courtney frowned. “For practice?”

“No,” Javier corrected himself. “Everywhere except for practice.” He then scoffed. “Like understanding Brian isn’t important enough or something.”

“Now you’re the one now to get almighty about the importance of practice”, she raised an eyebrow. 

Javier rolled his eyes. “Point is ― that’s not how you get better with English, you know. Having someone else do the work for you."

"You're mad because you never got the funds for a translator."

"It served me well! So with Maya.” Courtney made a face. “And then I get Brian telling me the kid doesn’t have any friends ― what does he expect me to do? If he really wanted friends, he should stop acting like a damn celebrity ― fire that stupid translator― just, make an effort, you know?”

Courtney gave him a smile through the screen, soft and kind. “I understand.”

She was so pretty when she smiled. He wished she would be there, next to him right now so that he could touch her face.

“I miss you a lot.”

“Me too,” she said. Then shattered the moment by asking: “How are feeling about the Lutz you told me about last time?”

Javier exhaled. He didn’t want to think about his career. Not now, not soon. “I don’t know. Next competition’s approaching, I guess I’ll ―” he took a breath, “I’ll see how I do and then try to figure it out.”

“Sounds good,” she smiled. “I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah. Love you too.”

So, Yuzuru was something. 

Javier usually restrained himself on showing any reaction regarding his ice rink partner’s performance of the day. He knew that skaters were already pretty self-aware of their strength and weaknesses, and didn’t need any comment from someone other their coach. Especially on bad days. But after’s what seemed to be Yuzuru’s tenth fall of the session, with Brian almost tearing his own hair apart from his head, trying to get the kid to just stop attempting that quad, as it clearly led to nothing and it could injure you, for God’s sake, if you keep at it ― Javier, on instinct more than anything else, took a few strokes in the boy’s direction.

He put a hand on the back of his neck in what was an attempt at a shooting gesture.

He didn’t know what he expected, to be honest.

Yuzuru’s neck snapped in his direction, angry eyes meeting his, and shoving Javier’s hand away with a slap before it could ever reach anywhere near his face. Javier backed away, ignoring the light pain in his arm, raising both of his palms in front of him in retreat. At least, that had seemed to take Yuzuru out of his trance-like state. He took his chance while he still had his attention.

“I think Brian wants you to take a break”, he stated, slowly, to get Yuzuru to understand the most out his words.

The boy looked at him for a few more seconds, lips tight, expression hermetic. If it weren’t for the eyes and the raised chin, slightly defiant.

He finally turned to look at Brian on the sidelines, who had both hands on the fence, closely watching them, eyes huge. He also seemed to notice David, who was one step away from jumping over the fence, coming onto the ice, probably to try and separate them with his bare hands if he needed too.

A few beats passed.

Yuzuru blinked, once, twice, as if confused. He then spared Javier a weird glance, and with a couple strokes, exited the ice without a sound.

Brian followed him. Javier was left in the middle of the rink for a few seconds, before David broke the weird, almost solemn moment.

“Hm, okay, Javi.” His clapped hands resonated in the arena. “Let’s do your sequence one more time.”

The next morning, as he walked into the changing rooms, Javier was surprised not to see Yuzuru already warmed up on the ice, but sitting on the bench next to his stuff, looking at his hands. As soon as Javier entered, the other quickly stumbled to his feet and bent his body in two in front of him in the deepest bow Javier had ever seen him doing.

“Please accept my apology for yesterday”, Yuzuru said, still bent, with the easiness of words clearly practiced multiple times in front of a mirror. Javier walked pass him to take off his coat and hang it on his reserved hook.

“I am sorry”, insisted Yuzuru, whom Javier really hoped wasn’t still bowing at this point, but refused looking back at. “I was very angry because of my fall. I hurt you.”

Javier couldn’t help but snicker a little at that. “You think that hurt me?”

“I hit you.”

“Please”, Javier turned around with a smirk. Gladly, the kid wasn’t still bowing. Only looking at him, quizzed. “A pat.”

“I ― hm,” answered Yuzuru, and Javier could see that the conversation was going beyond was he had planned.

“Listen,” Javier said, gratious, taking off his scarf and boots. “I’m not mad at you for hitting me.” He could see the other was confused.  “I’m mad because of how you treated Brian out there.”

Yuzuru furrowed his brows. “I apologize to Brian ―”

“I still didn’t like it”, he interrupted. “Brian is my coach too, you know. He asked you many times to get off the ice, and you ignored him.” He looked at him in the eyes before adding: “Don’t put the blame on your English for this. I know that you understand more than you show.”

Yuzuru frowned deeper. 

“I don’t care about how much you try and portray the perfect kid people like to think you are.” Javier explained, and something in Yuzuru's expression flickered, but he kept on going. “What I don’t like is all this ―” he gestured his hands and fake bowed to make himself understood, “fake pretense and respect you act like you have all the time, with the smiles and the head and all ― you know what. Because what you did to Brian yesterday, Yuzuru,” he emphasized on each word, “it was not respectful.”

“I feel like that will do nothing but envenom the situation.” Courtney told him over the phone that night. He could practically feel the frown in her voice.

Javier shrugged. “I just spoke my mind.”

“Did you really have to, though? You seriously believe that’ll help?”

“Well,” Javier argued, “at least it made me feel better. I don’t get you, Canadians, your obsession with political correctness. Keeping things that bother you to yourselves under a smile is what envenoms shit up.”

“If you say so, you behavioral science expert.” Javier couldn’t help but smile.

“I do say so.”

“Sure,” Courtney chuckled. “And what did you say to David about the Lutz for your SP?”

“Hm, not that.” Javier rubbed his forehead with his palm. “I don’t know how to bring it up and I feel bad and just ― can we talk about something else?”

Courtney stayed silent for a couple of seconds. “Yeah. But you’ve got to start thinking about it, Javi. Competition’s coming up and―”

“Thanks, Brian,” he interrupted sharply. “I’m aware.” Then, after a sigh: “Sorry. Let’s not ― let’s talk about your day. How did it go?”

Another silence. “I have to go, Javi. Practice is about to start.”

“Oh, okay, sure.”

“Let’s talk again this week.” A beat. “And don’t worry about Hanyu. Things will get better. I mean, they can’t get worse.”

“Yeah. Love you.” She had already hung up.

Surprisingly, something Javier said must have gone through, because things did get better.

Of course, the bows stayed, and the English was still terrible. But, somehow, more often than not, the mindless ‘yeah, yeah, yeah’s directed at Brian transformed themselves into ‘Say more slow, please?’, and, well. Javier could see the effort. Yuzuru also made sure he did, though, as David clapped vividly his hands at the end of a perfect practice and Yuzuru bowed, making direct eye contact with Javier, expectant.

He really looks up to you, Brian had said, and although Javier still doubted it, he gave the kid the approving smile that he felt he asked for.

“Why did you choose to come to Canada ?” Javier found the nerve to ask at the end of that day, when practice finished a little earlier.

Yuzuru stiffened, and looked to the side. Javier frowned, but the answer came before he could comment on the sudden uneasiness of the boy. It lacked enthusiasm, and felt robotic. “Is the best place for skate. The best train for Olympics.”

“Yeah, that’s what people say,” said Javier. “But you obviously don’t think so.”

Yuzuru shot him a quick glare. “I think so.”

“That’s not true,” insisted Javier. “Clearly. You thought it was best in Japan.”

“No best.” He bit his lower lip, searching for his words. “Different.”

Javier nodded. “I think Brian really is the best coach around,” he said. “For what my opinion is worth. You’ll gain a lot from listening to him.”

“I know,” Yuzuru looked away. “I listen.”

“I know. I noticed.”

Something in the way the boy’s shoulders stood a little straighter at the praise made Javier feel the strange need to give him some more.

“I think I get better,” Yuzuru unexpectedly continued talking. “Can’t be worse than -- when I come.”

And at that, Javier chuckled. “For sure.”

They stood a moment in silence, both seeming perplexed at how easy that conversation went.

“So,” Javier said, “you don’t hate it as much now ? Here ?”

Yuzuru shook his head. “I don’t hate, I always like. Very nice.” But there was something sad in his eyes that Javier couldn’t miss.

His skates were still on, so he bent himself into two to start unlacing them. “You don’t have to lie to me, you know. I’m not from here, I won’t get offended. I think Toronto is a terribly ugly city. And it’s darn cold, even though we’re supposed to be in May.”

“Yes.”

He could feel Yuzuru’s gaze on him when he spoke, quiet, but he concentrated on his task and didn’t look up.

“But the people are nice. And if you get to look around and dig up a little, there are some pretty cool spots, you know.”

“I am not here to tourist,” Yuzuru sounded serious. “I am here to train. Is a great chance for me. Not to waste time.”

“Yeah, of course,” and Javier suddenly recalled his own government money, sent to him every month to allow him to be there, and the whole bunch of expectations that came with it. “But you can make your time here a little less worse.”

A beat. “My time here is very nice.” And ― there it was. Javier felt it again, that strange ache in his chest. He realized it was pity.

As the other started gathering his bags, a light suddenly lit up in Javier’s head. “Hey, have you ever been to the High Park?”

“High Park?”

“Yeah,” he was amazed at how much of a good idea that was. “Are you doing anything tomorrow? Before practice, I mean.”

“I ― uh.” The boy looked as if he was trying to find an excuse, but Javier interrupted him.

“I know you aren’t. Let’s go to the park ― I swear you’ll love it. We can go from here, just ―” he grabbed the other’s phone. “Here, I’ll text you. Okay?”

It wasn’t like Yuzuru had been left much choice, so, he nodded.

The next morning, Javier was regretting his decision and could tell Yuzuru also did, but since they were both here, he took on himself to appear just as enthusiastic as he felt the night before for the both of them.

The walk there was pretty awkward. Yuzuru was faking to be sleepy to avoid having to formulate proper sentences, and Javier quickly ran out of babbling to do to fill up the silence. By the time they arrived, he really just hoped the view would be worth it.

It was a crisp, fresh April morning, and loads of people were walking their dogs and kids. When Javier first got there, two years ago, he had pretended to enjoy jogging to get the chance to be invited by Courtney to join her for her morning runs in the park, and fell for the place almost as quickly as he did for the girl. His favorite spot was by the Chinese garden, with the little bridge going over an artificial pond filled with long, colorful fish. But he did not feel like bringing Yuzuru there, just in case the other would think Javier misunderstood Japanese-style gardens for it.

Instead, he brought him by the big lake, which, in itself, was already beautiful ― but that wasn’t the point.

The cherry trees were.

Javier noticed wearily that the cherry blossoms were already fading and falling down, covering the alley, and wished he brought the boy a week earlier.

But, judging by Yuzuru’s face, he guessed that it didn’t really matter.

They walked under the trees for a moment, Javier entertaining himself by stealing glances here and there at Yuzuru’s expression. He felt pleased with himself. It was the happiest he had seen the boy since he met him.

“Feels a little like home?” he tentatively asked after a while.

The smile Yuzuru gave him was so fond he felt like anyone weaker would have been starstrucked. “A little.” Then, eyes on the ground. “Thank you, Jabi-èw.”

Javier hid the crackle he had at the pronunciation of his name under a cough. When he passed his arm around Yuzuru’s shoulders give it an affectionate pat, the boy didn’t shrink away, and Javier felt his own smile grow larger.

“Heard your date with Sasuke went well.” Sam’s cheeky grin welcomed him into the line for Tim Hortons.

Javier inhaled. “Always amazed at how fast news are spreading around here.” He squinted at the menu on top of the cashier’s head. “Heard about our marriage yet?”

“Better invite me.”

“Sure won’t.” He took out his phone to look at the time. “You’re heading to the arena?”

Sam nodded. “Wouldn’t miss Monday’s special workshop.” Then he passed a hand in his hair. “To be fair, I could use any practice I can get. The U.S. nationals are coming soon.”

Javier had been glad not to participate in those. They arrived so early in the season, and nobody was ever fully prepared. “Right.”

“What about you? Aren’t you going to fly out to try-outs for the GP selection soon?”

Javier raised a shoulder, trying to appear like he didn’t make a big deal out of it. “Yeah, in a week or so.”

“Superstar doesn’t seem nervous.” Sam nudged him playfully on the arm.

Javier smiled. “You’ll get there.”

Superstar wasn’t nervous, he was only losing sleep. And that conversation wouldn't help.

He really needed to talk to David about his stupid quadruple Lutz. As soon as possible.

Soon, of course, happened to be at the latest minute possible, right as they were boarding the plane to France. David was ecstatic ― he loved traveling, he loved planes, and Javier thought that taking advantage of his happy mood would lessen the consequences of what he was about to say.

“David, I’ve been wanting to tell you something about the choreo”, he said on a light, casual tone, as David was handing out his passport to the flight attendant with a smile. “About that combination, more specifically.”

“What about it?” David was speaking on the same casual tone as him, but Javier could sense his weariness. He also could sense Brian’s eyes on him, from the side. He went for it anyway.

“I’m going to drop it. A Salchow would be best.”

“Excuse me?” David blinked at him.

“You know I never really felt it, and ―”

“No. Javier Fernandez,” David cut him like he was talking to a madman. “You already have a Salchow in that short program. You most certainly don’t need another one.”

“Try-outs are tomorrow, and I can still only land it one third of the time ―”

“What you need are the points that one-third of a quad can give you, Javier ―”

“It puts me off, and then I mess up the next ten seconds ―”

“You can’t drop this on me with a day’s notice like that ―”

“Guys, guys!” Brian put a hand on each of their shoulders. Javier looked down, unable to meet anyone’s gaze. From the corner of his eyes, he saw David crossing his arms, clearly mad. “Let’s not do this here.” Brian pat Javier’s back. “Let’s discuss it first, before anyone gets angry. When we arrive, okay?”

“Sure,” David said coldly, and left to follow the ones who were already entering the plane. Most members of the club were already seated, but Javier saw Yuzuru walk past him and Brian in silence. He sighed.

“Come on,” Brian said. “Go in.”

He left Édouard the window seat like he begged for, and found himself squeezed between him and Yuzuru, who looked like he was the only one tiny enough to fit in the midget-sized space of the cheap class. Trying to adjust himself to the space, Javier elbowed him accidently twice on the side, and hit Édouard once straight in the face.

“What the fuck, be careful, man,” the other complained, rightfully so. “I need that nose.”

“Sorry.” He finally settled down in a somewhat comfortable position. “You okay?” He asked Yuzuru, to make sure he wasn’t invading his personal space.

“Okay, thank you,” said Yuzuru, but he looked tense. Javier made a chin movement at him.

“First time travelling without you mom ?” he joked, and Édouard crackled next to him.

Yuzuru looked at Édouard, and didn’t laugh. He squeezed his lips as he adjusted his seatbelt in silence. Javier exchanged a look with Édouard, and lightly touched the boy’s arm, tentative.

“Hey, Yuzu,” he said softly. “It’s okay. There’s got to be a first to everything, right?”

But that didn’t seem to make Yuzuru any happier. “It’s not my first time,” he said flatly, but his chin was raised, and his chest, a little puffier than usual. Javier wondered why he seemed so irritated, then, but didn’t want to worsen his case and stood silent. He slept through most of the flight, anyway.

Once arrived at the hotel in Marseille, ten hours or so later, everybody was so tired that Brian didn’t insist on any long gathering before dispatching them to their rooms.

“Just go and rest,” he said to his group of six skaters. “Dinner’s at seven, downstairs. I’ll see you all there.”

After a four hours knock-out nap, as Javier was making the most out of the free buffet from the hotel restaurant, he noticed that Yuzuru hadn’t come down.

He felt like asking about him, but since nobody appeared to think anything was wrong with his absence, he didn’t dare. Brian surely did notice. If anything was abnormal, Brian would have known.

The next day was pretty busy, as Édouard and Maya insisted to fit a little sightseeing into their already charged schedule. The ice rinks were reserved for the Juniors’ practice that day, and apart from meetings and gym sessions, there was nothing much more interesting to do.

“Do you think Yuzuru would like to come?” Javier remembered to ask while locking his room’s door. Maya had already her stupid sunglasses on, way too big for her face, and it was hard to look at her without laughing.

“I asked him,” she said. “He said he didn’t feel well.”

Javier squinted.

“Maybe he just needs concentration before a comp’,” Édouard shrugged, Javier knew he was trying to be reassuring. “Come on,” he chanted, “let’s go to the beach — beach, let’s go get away―”

And, just like that, Javier took Yuzuru out of his mind for the day. As should be. He needed to relax too, even more so than anyone else. The Plage du Prado was packed, it was a sunny day on an already hot weekend, and Javier came back with just what he needed: a clear mind, an exhausted body and a skin gorged of sunlight.

Back at the hotel, after halfheartedly listening to Édouard whining about his sunburns, Javier went to get ice at the vending machine of his floor.

He found none else than Yuzuru, staring at the drinks aligned before his eyes behind the glass like he would be looking at a T.V screen.

“Interesting program?” he smiled as he came next to him to fill up his bucket.

Yuzuru jumped a little at the sound of his voice. “What?”

Javier chose not to repeat. “How’s it doing?” But Yuzuru was already picking up his bag and leaving. “Uh, okay,” said Javier, but still went after him, feeling something was off. “You’re going down for dinner with us later? Dinner? To eat?”

Yuzuru gave him a blank face.

“No, sorry, not hungry.” And turned around the corner, leaving Javier with his empty bucket of ice in the middle of the corridor.

“Yuzuru’s been acting weird,” he told his friends has he came back. “Just saw him in the corridor and he talked to me like I was some kind of nuisance.”

Maya made a face. “Well, you are sort of competing against each other this week.”

“Yeah,” added Sam. “Maybe he just likes keeping things in separate boxes, you know. Can’t blame him, it’s not like it’s news.”

Javier looked down. He knew Yuzuru was kind of competitive, but he wouldn’t have thought their rivalry would go as far as suddenly treating him each other as complete strangers. And he didn’t like not being sure, so he took on himself to go and knock at his door after dinner.

“Hey,” Javier said, as Yuzuru opened lightly the door.

“Hey,” he answered quietly. Javier could only see his head and the side of his shoulder through the narrow opening.

“You’re afraid I’m going to rob you or something?”

Yuzuru stayed silent, but opened the door a little more so they could be facing each other. His hand was still on the doorknob. He didn’t invite Javier to come in.

“I just wanted to see how you were,” Javier said, feeling awkward. “Haven’t really seen you since we got here.”

Yuzuru only nodded. “I’m okay. You see.”

And, was Javier hallucinating? He was already proceeding to close the door. Javier blocked it with his forearm.

“So, what now?” He felt irritation creeping in. Was there a need to be so cold? “You’re just going to ignore me and stay in the room like an hermit for the rest of the week?”

Javier wasn’t sure Yuzuru understood what hermit meant, but the hand gestures must have helped.

“Maybe so,” he answered, insolent.

“That’s pretty smart, now. Skip every dinner? Starve yourself to death? Way to go.”

“I do what I want.”

“You can’t just ― not eat.”

“I have room service!” Yuzuru threw his hands in the air. “I not need you to babysit me.”

Javier frowned. There was something so strange, out of place, about seeing Yuzuru genuinely annoyed. “So that’s what its about?”

Yuzuru exaggeratedly sighed. “I say ― I not need ― I mean, I don’t.” He threw another hand in the hand, turning his head away from Javier, angry at his words failing him, once again. Javier stared at him in silence.

“Well, sorry for caring about you,” he finally said. “Guess I’ll just stop.”

Yuzuru rolled his eyes. “You do not care. You treat me like a child, and that’s ― not care. That’s ― it’s―” he set his mind on a word. “patronize.”

“What?” It was Javier’s turn to feel anger creeping up. “How?”

“You make fun of me, you always call me kid ― in front of everyone, always.” Yuzuru raised his chin, planting his eyes in Javier’s. “And I am not a child.”

Javier scoffed. “Okay. Okay, whatever you say.” He shrugged. “But you’re not an adult either. In like, any country. So, I’m going to stop calling you kid, fine. If that’s what you want.” He pointed a finger at his face. “From now on, I’ll call you Moody Teenager. ‘Cause that’s how you’re acting.”

Yuzuru slammed his door shut without a further word. Javier stood there in silence, for one, two seconds, startled at how his provocation had been, well ― efficient.

“How do you think that is doing anything but to prove my point?” he shouted at the closed door.

He didn’t get any response, of course. He just went back to his room.

“So,” Brian sat next to him. “I talked to David.”

Javier looked down at his hands. It was right after the women’s try-outs, and he was surprised and strangely touched that Brian chose to take a moment in such a busy, frantic night to have this kind of talk with him.

“He’s mad at me.”

“He’s not,” Brian said. “He just wants you to have the confidence in yourself he thinks you deserve. He wants to see you do the things he sees you’re capable of doing.”

Javier squeezed his lips tight. He wanted to ask Brian what he saw in him, but feared the answer.

“He’s projecting,” he said instead. “I’m not as great as he thinks I am.”

“That’s not true.” Brian shook his head. “He has every reason to believe in what you’re capable of doing. We all do.”

Javier crossed his arms. He felt it coming, that now familiar contraction of the lungs, that weight and pressure on his both sides of his ribcages, tightening, suffocating. He didn’t want to talk. He couldn’t. Brian put a hand on his arm.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, and his voice was shooting. “You don’t have to do that quad, Javier. You don’t need it to win. I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“Okay.” Javier’s voice was tight.

“I just ―” Brian continued, and Javier closed his eyes, bracing himself. “I just want you to have fun skating again. At this point, that’s all I ask from you. Nothing more.”

And so did Javier from himself. He really did.

“Hey Javi, it’s me. Uh, Courtney. I just wanted to wish you good luck for the try-outs today. I really wish it would be broadcasted so I could see you ― but I don’t need that to know you’ll do great. Remember that there’s no pressure to feel. You don’t have to win. It’s not a competition, and you already know you’ll get in for the GP. So ― try and enjoy it, okay? You deserve it. I miss you, and I can’t wait to see you soon. Bye.”

Javier listened to the voicemail twice before shutting off the lights of his hotel room. Then, once more, just for luck.

Javier did terribly. He knew it, and he also knew that everybody knew it too. He really didn’t anybody reminding him on top of that.

“Your skate was terrible.”

Despite himself, he couldn’t help to look up to see where that annoying voice was coming from. In front of him stood a little Asian girl, whom a small gust of wind could have probably winged down.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your skate,” she repeated, emphasizing the words, “was bad. Very bad.”

“Hm,” Javier blinked, disbelieving such rudeness could come from such an innocent-looking being. “And you are?”

She stood up straighter. “Kanako Murakami.” She gave him a weird smile. “We’ve met before. I compete with your girlfriend.”

Javier ducked his head to the side. “I don’t remember you.”

Her smile grew even larger. “She mentions you a lot. Lies to everyone about how good you are.”

“Hey, no offense, but, uh, what’s your problem?” People would usually say of Javier that he was very sweet, but right now was a bad moment to try and pick a fight.

“No problem. I just try to give advice.”

“Well,” Javier frowned, “going on to people and just state that they’re plain bad doesn’t count as any form of constructive criticism, so if you have nothing more ―”

“Hey, Javi,” Brian appeared out of the blue. “I was looking for you. What are you waiting for?”

Kanako made a quick bow to Brian and gave a short one to Javier as well before disappearing.

“Did you see that?” Javier said.

“See what?” Brian turned his head just in time to see her turn around the corner. “Murakami? Yeah, sweet girl. Are you coming? It’s going to be Yuzuru’s turn.”

Javier blinked. Whatever. “Uh ― okay.”

They passed the right side of the rink to get to where Yuzuru would come off the locker-rooms. As they walked, Brian avoided going back to the matter of Javier’s performance. They would have time to go over it in details later, when the wound wouldn’t be as fresh.

“Yuzuru’s been pretty tense since we arrived,” his coach said.

Javier kept a straight face. “You tell me.”

“Somebody told me he picked a fight with the hairdresser this morning. That’s pretty unusual of him. Picking fights, I mean.”

“It is.”

“I think he’s having a lot of trouble managing the stress.” Javier could tell Brian was nervous. He was babbling. Javier let him. If at least he could be good at helping people to unwind, it would be something. “He doesn’t open up, so it’s hard to tell. But I have a feeling he’s having real anxiety about performing.”

“Well,” Javier gritted through his teeth. “Don’t we all.” Didn’t mean it was okay to take it out on people.

“There he is,” Brian accelerated and went to talk to Yuzuru. Javier stayed on the side, a little furtherer away, so that he wouldn’t distract them. He barely noticed the dark bags Yuzuru had under his eyes underneath the make up.

Yuzuru entered the ice. Javier wondered if he needed to say something, to wish him good luck. He didn’t feel like cheering. But as he saw Yuzuru's small, dark figure stroking to get the middle of the ice, he grabbed the fence and heard himself shout:

“You can do this!”

He didn’t know who appeared to be most surprised at that sudden cheer, between Brian, Yuzuru, or himself. But the way Yuzuru nodded at him, eyes wide, and positioned himself in the middle of the rink with a radiating new-found intensity, made Javier believe he did the right thing.

After dinner, that night, Javier went straight to his room and tried to call Courtney. He knew that it was the middle of the night where she was, but couldn’t help hope still she would pick up. She didn’t, and he felt puerile.

He spent a lot of time staring at the ceiling. He then tried watching T.V., only to realize after a good ten minutes that he understood none of it, since he didn’t speak a single word of French.

He knew that Yuzuru was probably still downstairs, or maybe even went out, celebrating his first place like he should in any way he thought would be best. And that even if he wasn’t, Javier had no right to go and ruin the high of his win by going and talk to him, with how moody he would probably sound. So, he didn’t know what raised him up out of his bed and took his feet to his door, but that’s what happened anyway.

He opened his door, and got startled by Yuzuru himself.

He was looking just as surprised as Javier to be there, fist lightly raised in what Javier assumed was a gesture to knock on the door and not, as it could look like, on his face.

They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds before Yuzuru stepped back a little. He looked embarrassed.

“I come to say sorry,” he said, bowing lightly, and Javier found himself struck, for the first time, by the humility of the movement. “And thank you. Always you are very kind to me, and I not ― I don’t deserve. Sorry.”

Javier kept his eyes on him ― this fumbling and shy boy, trying his best, like he did all the time. Yuzuru raised his eyes and lowered them again almost immediately. The clench was back.

“I leave you alone now,” he said, and bowed, and walked away, and―

“Yuzuru, wait,” Javier stopped him. “Come in for a bit.”

He didn’t know why he suggested that. Judging by his face, neither did Yuzuru.

“I have, uh ― lots of chocolate, fans gave me. If you like it.”

Yuzuru gave him a small smile. “I like,” he said, and Javier let out a breath. “But thank you, sorry. I go back now.”

“Okay, sure, no problem.” Javier looked down and scratched the back of his neck.

Yuzuru waived his hand and took a few steps backwards, but Javier stopped him again.

“I ― sorry”. He let go of his arm, and felt silly dragging the conversation longer. “Congrats for your first place today. Your skate was something else, and…” he smiled. “You really belong in the seniors.”

Yuzuru smiled, that smile that made his eyes disappear. He leaned in, so close that Javier, surprised, for a split second, thought he was going to hug him ― he even braced himself for it. But of course, it was just a bow.

Yuzuru’s hair brushed his collarbone when he raised up. “Thank you,” he said.

And he was gone.

“It wasn’t that bad,” stated Brian. “You ranked third out of twenty, don’t make that face.”

Javier rolled his eyes. “The guy behind me had no quads. And still, he could’ve beaten me by three points.”

“Well, he had a lot of other technical elements, and―”

“And he was sixteen.”

Brian sighed. “Is this what it’s about, now?”

“How could it not be?” Javier raised his hands in the air. “Yuzuru’s seventeen, and if it wasn’t for ―”

“Let me stop you right now.” Brian’s voice was low, but steady, as it always was when he wanted to make clear he wasn’t having any of Javier’s complaining. “Yuzuru’s not a two-times European champion. Yuzuru’s not a national champion. Hell, if the selections were for this year, Yuzuru probably wouldn’t even qualify to represent Japan for the Olympics.”

Javier exhaled. “Maybe not, but this season ―”

“No, listen,” Brian interrupted him with a sharp hand movement. “I’ll tell you what Yuzuru has that you don’t.” He pointed Javier’s chest. “Confidence. And that’s the only reason he beat you, and why he’ll keep on beating you if you don’t get your shit together.”

Javier tightened his lips. “I have my shit together.”

“Yeah, no.” Brian lowered his head to try and catch his gaze, but Javier averted it. “I have no idea what’s gotten into you, but we both know it needs to stop, Javi. You can’t keep on acting like it’s time for you to retire at twenty.”

Back in Toronto, practice felt numbing.

“You should put even more weight into the inner side of the foot,” he absentmindedly advised Yuzuru in the changing room, “for the quad Sal'.”

“Why you help me?” Yuzuru raised an eyebrow. “So I keep on beating you?”

Javier didn’t laugh. Yuzuru’s smile slowly faded.

“I joke,” he said, watching as Javier put his bag on his shoulders.

“Well, that’s not really your thing.”

Courtney came to visit in late September, and he thought it would help. It really didn’t.

“My, my,” she would say. “Your flat is a mess.”

Then she would look at the empty trophy case, hanging on the wall, and squint. Javier held his breath.

“Where did all your medals go?” she sounded confused.

He tried to make it sound casual. “I didn’t feel like looking at them anymore.” 

It failed. Her eyes went huge and round, in an almost comical way. “You threw them out!?”

“No, no. They’re just in a drawer, somewhere.”

She looked at him for a few seconds, expression unreadable. Then sighed, and pursed her lips in that way she knew he hated.

“Well, good to know I bought you the case for nothing.”

“I saw you on T.V., yesterday, Javi!”

His mom’s face was half chopped out, as she was standing way too close to the computer’s camera. Javier could picture it well, the old machine on the old desk, in his small living room, facing the sea. He smiled.

“Yeah?”

“On the sport’s channel. They were talking about the Roseletom― Roscetolm― Roselt―”

“Rostlecom Cup,” he helped her. “That’s nice.”

“I showed it to Eddy this morning. He’s still a little young, but I think he liked it. Laura says he’ll grow up to be your biggest fan.”

Javier shook his head, looking down. He wanted to say something, but his throat felt tight, so he settled on a fond smile, hoping it would do.

“So, here it is a little windy today,” his mom turned her head to the side, looking at the window, Javier guessed. “I feel like it’s going to rain soon, so I will have to take out the clothes from outside. How’s the weather back in Canada?”

The first time he was officially asked about Yuzuru in public, he didn’t know how to react.

It was at an official press conference after the short programs of the Rostlecom Cup, and Javier was dozing off, listening to Patrick Chan, first place at the time, answering questions about his upcoming free skate. When a reporter finally had a question for Javier, he rubbed a palm against his face, trying to get himself to focus.

“Mr. Fernandez, you’ve been sharing coaches with last World Junior Champion Yuzuru Hanyu from Japan,” Javier nodded, the reporter kept on going. “How’s the atmosphere in the training club? Do you feel a rivalry emerging?”

This question in itself wasn’t out of place, and Javier had no problem answering honestly. “Well, you know, of course we’re competitors. But the thing with figure skating is that at no point you’re actually sharing the ice with someone you’re against, so you’re not really battling with other skaters, or actually fighting against them. In the end, you’re just ― you know ― fighting against scores, numbers, and there’s nothing you can do to weaken the other’s. You just have to work on your own.”

“Mr. Fernandez,” another reporter raised their hand, and Javier still didn’t think much about having two questions directed at him back to back. “How are the schedules working out, with Yuzuru Hanyu? Are you at any point both together on the ice and training together?”

Javier explained it all with good will, the shared sessions, group sessions, and individual sessions. He got a little startled when, for the third time in a row, some reporter addressed him.

“Mr. Fernandez,” the lady called him, “can you elaborate on Hanyu’s training schedule? How is he structuring his time for his senior Grand Prix debut?”

“Uh,” Javier blinked. “Well, like I just said ― like all the members of the club, I would guess? With the sessions… I don’t really follow him everywhere, you know.”

Another raised hand. “Mr. Fernandez, how would you describe Hanyu as a skater? In day to day life?”

He saw Patrick squinting next to him, but tried his best to answer the question still. “He’s, uh, quite nice. You know, very, ah, polite and smiling all the time. Grateful ― yeah, I don’t know?”

“How does he handle the pressure of his first season as a senior?”

“Hey, sorry,” Patrick interrupted, and all eyes went back on him instantly. “But I believe Yuzuru is in Canada, right now, for the upcoming coming Skate Canada, in case you were not aware. If you want to ask him questions, I’m pretty sure there would be a way to skype-call him later, somehow.”

He gave the journalists a bright and sweet Canadian smile that erased any kind of discontentment he could have created, and the conference went back to follow its normal course. Reporters spared Javier any more questions about Yuzuru.

“I can’t believe how rude that was,” Patrick told him later, when all the press finally left. “And you were so nice to them. They didn’t deserve any of your answers.”

Javier shrugged. “Yeah, was kind of weird.”

“Don’t hesitate, next time,” Patrick insisted, “to put them back into track. Or it could go out of hand, you know.”

Javier smiled and nodded, trying not to dwell on the fact that Patrick implied it was bound to happen again.

Next competition was the NHK Trophy, and Yuzuru was signed up for that one as well. When they were about to leave the Tokyo airport, two of the hugest men Javier ever saw in his life came up to them and started talking to Brian.

“Who are they ?” Javier asked David, who was taking out soda from a vending machine nearby.

“Bodyguards,” he answered, like it was nothing. “For Yuzuru.”

Javier stiffened. “For what ?”, he whispered. “People want to fight him ?”

He glanced quickly at Yuzuru, sitting on his luggage a few meters away, covering a yawn with the back of his hand. Javier couldn’t imagine anyone wishing to hurt a being so inoffensive, but then again, he never knew what were the actual dynamics Yuzuru had with people of his own country.

David just giggled, like if Javier told a joke. “No, you silly. It’s for the fans.”

Javier didn’t ask, even though the thing made no sense to him. He figured Brian knew what he was doing.

And he was right.

Nothing could have prepared him for the media attention their ride to the hotel got them. Flashes of camera left blind spots behind his eyelids, and he almost got knocked out by a book a fan threw at them, probably to get Yuzuru to sign it. They could only breathe when they entered the taxi, and Brian noticed his confusion. “Had you forgotten how huge figure skating is in Japan, Javi ?” he only said, laughing.

Javier knew basically no one participating in the competition this time, apart from Yuzuru, who was busy almost every second doing T.V. interviews or photoshoots. So the trip revealed itself to be rather lonely. He let himself wonder what it would be like to have an ISU event in Spain, if people would be interested, if they would even show up. Probably not. So much energy was dedicated to football back home, there was nothing left for anything else anyway.

It was strange seeing Yuzuru like that, Javier thought, while watching him being interviewed. Talking freely, with enthusiasm, laughing and making people laugh, giving a show. In the span of two days, he heard more of Yuzuru’s voice then he did in the whole past year. He wished he could understand any of what was said.

The Japanese people were ecstatic to have Yuzuru back home, and Yuzuru was too. He would insist for Brian, David, and Javier to try all and every kind of weird-looking food, explaining them vaguely what it was before basically shoving it into their mouths. Apart from the desserts, that revealed themselves to be mushy and not sweet at all, Javier couldn’t argue that it was all bad. That only sufficed to make Yuzuru gleam with an child-like joy that couldn’t be anything but contagious.

“I don’t want to restrain your enthusiasm, Yuzu,” Javier overheard Brian declare at some point, when both him and Yuzuru were coming back from another interview to get snacks at the hotel restaurant. “But going on and openly declaring you’re going to win Sochi this early is a little much.”

Yuzuru pouted as he filled is plate with dumplings from the buffet. “Much?”

“It can come off as, like, cocky.”

The look Yuzuru gave to Brian made, even from a distance, Javier smile. “Not cocky. It is truth.”

Brian blinked and sighed. “Okay, sure. But ― try to lay lower next time, okay? Just in case.”

And in the midst and entertainment of everything, Javier could almost forget his sixth place in the short program. They were having dinner after the press conference and everyone was making such a big effort not to mention it that, yeah, it could almost do. Almost.

The next morning, in practice, it was surprisingly not him, but Yuzuru who did terrible. He repeated fall after fall, each one looking more painful than the other, messed up his step sequences and almost got a concussion running into another skater who was in the way.

“Yuzuru,” Brian declared at some point, because it had to stop, “off the ice.”

The team knew that taking him off would only proceed to make Yuzuru angrier, but Brian's tone left no space for protests. Javier saw Yuzuru put on his blade protectors, fuming, storming out of the arena without a further word. Brian didn’t follow him. It could only mean they had already talked about it, and Javier tried not to be curious. He kept on repeating his routine.

However, when he got to his floor that night, getting out of the elevator and turning around the corner, he got startled by the view of Yuzuru waiting for him in the middle of the empty corridor. Sitting with his back against his door, arms wrapped around his folded legs, he looked a little miserable and Javier almost let his guard down.

“I’m not in the mood to pick a fight with you so you can vent out your tension,” Javier said, taking out his key as Yuzuru sparked up. He remembered quite well the last competition and Yuzuru’s methods of coping with stress.

But Yuzuru looked offended. “I don’t want to fight,” he argued and oh, that tone said otherwise. Javier opened his door and Yuzuru followed him inside, without being invited to.

“Then why are you here?”

“I lost a whole entire day of practice,” Yuzuru said.

“Could’ve used it to do something better than to mope around.”

“Like what?” he sounded tired. Then he straightened. “Tell to me what you do after you lose,” he asked.

Javier dropped his bags and took out his jacket, shaking his head. Did he really ever say he thought Yuzuru was nice in an interview? He couldn’t seem to remember why.

“Please,” Yuzuru added, as if it would make his request sound any less insulting.

“There’s no magic trick, you know” Javier said, cold. “You don’t get used to it. Asking me this make it sound like I am the king of losing to you. Well, flash news, I’m not. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He unzipped his suitcase under the weary eyes of the boy.

“I don’t think that. I think you have more experience.”

“Well,” Javier tried not to sound too harsh, “I have more experience in winning then losing. Sorry to break it to you.”

Yuzuru opened his mouth, and closed it. His brows were furrowed, and Javier could tell he was searching for his words, upset at how he couldn’t seem to make Javier understand what he really meant, and Javier felt generous. He dropped his defense.

“It’s okay, sorry,” he said. “Guess I am in the mood to pick a fight, after all.”

Yuzuru smiled. He turned his eyes away as Javier changed in one of his t-shirts. They stayed in silence for a moment, and Javier sat on the edge of his bed.

“I don’t know, Yuzuru,” he shook his head. “There’s always going to be bad days.”

Yuzuru dropped his eyes on the floor, and Javier wanted to say the right words, or anything to comfort him.

“I guess you just have to stop thinking of progress in terms of a straight line,” he heard himself saying, not bothering to wonder about how hypocritical is sounded, coming from him. “It’s more like―” he made hand movements, up and down, but overall curving up. “Like that. Sometimes is goes down, but what matters is the long run. You keep on progressing. Sometimes you look at how it was yesterday, or the week before, and you think ah, but I was so much better back then, how can I be so low now? But―” he shrugged, “your low point of today was like, you highest point of a year ago. So, yeah, it’s still progress, right?”

Yuzuru’s expression was unreadable. Javier wondered if he spoke too fast, or if his sloppy explanation even made sense at all.

“Still progress,” Yuzuru repeated, and Javier nodded. “It apply to bad seasons too?”

There must have been something in Javier’s look that made Yuzuru understand that it wasn’t a subject to be addressed. “That’s different,” he only said, then turned on the T.V. “You should watch a movie or something,” he nodded at the screen, “I’m going to take a shower.”

Yuzuru got of the bed. “No,” he shook his head. “I should go to practice. Thanks to help me.”

“No,” Javier put a hand on his shoulder to get him to sit again. “If Brian said you should rest, rest. You’re lucky, you can actually understand what they’re saying on television. Enjoy it while it lasts.” He ruffled Yuzuru’s hair, then asked himself why the hell he did it while locking himself up in the bathroom.

The shower he took was long and filled with thoughts Javier knew were unnecessary. He should follow his own advice and rest, not dwell and worry like a rookie. But their stress wasn’t the same, Javier thought while his dried his hair with a towel. Yuzuru only stressed about tomorrow’s performance. Javier was stressed about every aspect of his entire life.

When he opened the door to go back into the room, he lowkey hoped Yuzuru would be gone, so they wouldn’t have to deal with clumsy goodbyes and ‘good luck for tomorrow’. He found instead Yuzuru sound asleep, on top of his bedsheets, rolled in a little ball of thin limbs, like if he had wanted to make himself as small as possible. His breath was so quiet that Javier actually had to put a hand close to his face to make sure he wasn’t dead. He really didn’t need the corpse of his competitor in his room the night before the actual competition.

He didn’t have the heart to wake him up. Maybe because some of his fondest memories were the ones where Laura or his mother would carry him to bed while he was pretending to be asleep instead of waking him up, or maybe because he wanted to spare himself the awkwardness, he just decided to let him sleep. The bed was huge enough for five anyway, and Yuzuru took about the space of half a person.

Javier stared at his phone for a longer-than-necessary time in the dark, and apparently fell asleep, because when he woke up, it was the middle of the night. The T.V. was still on, playing silently, and the flashes of images illuminated inconsistently the shape of Yuzuru’s face. He was awake too, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey,” said Javier quietly.

Yuzuru turned his head to look at him. “Hey.”

Javier could feel him breathing, the slight swell of his ribcage, slow and rhythmical, dipping the bed in a barely noticeable motion.

“You can’t sleep?”

Yuzuru shook his head, and went back to look at the ceiling. “No.”

“Why?” He didn’t know why they were whispering. Maybe because the moment so felt unreal that any sound would break it.

Yuzuru stayed silent for a moment. “I don’t know.” Then, he breathed. “I am scared.”

“Of what?” Javier knew it was a question too simple for any answer Yuzuru could give him. But it was dark, it was late, and maybe things could try and be easy, for once. “Even if you mess up, you’re in Japan. People will still cheer for you and think you did great. They love you.”

Yuzuru sighed. “You would not understand. It’s not the same for you.”

“Why not?”

It took Yuzuru forever to answer. Seven breaths. He spoke in such a small voice that Javier barely understood him. “Nobody cares about skate in Spain.”

Well, that much was true, but it still managed to hurt. “My mom does.”

“Not the same,” Yuzuru repeated, and he sounded so weak Javier couldn’t bother to be mad at him. “You are one only good skater from there. Whatever you do, you are the first to do. Always good, always first, already legend.”

Javier could have corrected him, but he wanted to hear the whole thought first. “So what?”

“So,” Yuzuru turned on his side to look at him. His eyes were big in the dark. “I am not. I am one of so many, Javi. I can’t mistake. I can’t fail.”

“Yes, you can. It’s part of becoming better, and nobody will stop loving you if―”

“You think I care about love?” Yuzuru breathed.

And damn, that hit Javier in the gut. He never had the nerve to say something like that aloud, so bluntly, without shame. Maybe it was that lack of inhibitions that defined champions.

They stayed in silence for so long after this that Javier even started to fall back asleep. Yuzuru’s hushed whispers were lulling when he spoke again.

“You still could beat me, tomorrow, you know.”

Javier sighed. “You’re not the one I want to beat.”

He could feel the other’s gaze on him, but he kept his eyes closed. 

He felt a faint touch on the side of his face, right on the space between his temple and his eyelid. His eyes snapped open.

“Sorry,” said Yuzuru, dropping immediately his hand back on the mattress. “I’m sorry.”

He withdrew his hand even furtherer away, and Javier grabbed it back, stopping its motion. “It’s okay,” even thought he felt he had no air in his lungs anymore.

Yuzuru looked at him, careful. “Your face is so tense,” he whispered, and slowly took his hand back to Javier’s face again. He moved the tips of his fingers, featherlike, up his forehead, down his temple, on his cheekbone, as to unwrinkle the tension away. Javier closed his eyes. “You like?”

Javier shrugged. “Whatever," he breathed. 

Yuzuru exhaled, amused. “Okay.” And kept on going.

His fingers were a little cold, and so very soft, Javier felt himself drifting away slowly. He wondered how long Yuzuru would keep on going before he got bored, if he could fall asleep before that. He wanted to thank Yuzuru, to tell him how good he felt like this. He wanted to ask how the loneliness had been, lately, and if it could match up to his own, but he didn't.

Against all odds, Javier got first place in the free skate the next day. It wasn’t enough to get him to win gold, considering how low his score of the short program had been, but it was still something. When Brian hugged him, he felt all of it back coming in a rush, the last season, undefeated, the gold and the smiles and the thrill, the exhilaration. “See,” Brian said, “see, I told you you could do it.” And for a day, Javier allowed himself to believe.

Before heading back to Toronto, there was still the exhibition gala. For the group number repetition, each skater was assigned an another one of the opposite gender, with whom they had to practice a short step sequence. It was nothing complicated, nothing to stress about, except that Javier’s luck ran out, and he got himself assigned with Kanako.

“You did great yesterday,” she said as he was twisting her around, trying to follow the count the choreographer shouted at them from the left. Javier braced himself for the second part of the sentence, knowing something nasty would follow this carefree compliment. “For someone who just learnt he’s been cheated on.”

Skate world was a small world, Javier knew that much. Everything that happened was bound to be spread around and known by everyone in a very short span of time. But this particular callout was still a little too early.

“You sure seem to be invested a lot in me and Courtney’s love life,” he said, trying to sound unaffected.

“We talk a lot.”

Javier resisted the desire to drop her on the ground. “You should work on your saltos instead of talking. The both of you.” The choreography separated them for a few moments, but soon enough, to everyone’s displeasure, they were back to dancing together. Javier resisted to ask anything more for a long time. He failed. “Anything else you’ve been gossiping about lately?”

Kanako looked smug doing the next twist. “Apart from how boring you are in bed?”

Javier grabbed her wrist to slide her to his chest. “I think I get what game you’re playing,” he looked at her straight in the eye. “I’m not sure she swings your way, but with such dedication, you might get a chance someday. Who knows.”

She shot him the meanest glare, but it still proceeded to shut her up for a couple minutes. Their coordination was terrible, and they were by far the worst duo out of all the thirty skaters, so to work in silence and focus wasn’t a bad thing to do.

“I hear you talk to Kanako a lot,” Yuzuru’s braked next to him as he was drinking water at the break of the repetition. Javier choked.

“You what?”

Something in his face must have shown how panicked he was at the thought of someone overhearing them. Out of everyone, Yuzuru, with the shittiest English one could imagine ― if he understood anything, what about the others around them? Yuzuru frowned and shook his hands, as if to reassure him.

“I saw you talk to Kanako a lot,” he corrected himself, and Javier could breathe again. “Your friend?”

“Nope,” said Javier, “not at all.”

“Oh,” Yuzuru nodded, looked down. “Her English is very good. She tells me she could teach to me.”

“No that ― would be a terrible idea.”

Yuzuru made a face, but Javier refused to expand. “She already give me one application to teach on the phone,” Yuzuru said, taking out his phone out of his back pocket. “Look,” he was so enthusiastic, but then pressed on a button and repeated after the app very solemnly. “The boys have the pears.”

“Sounds awesome,” Javier said. “See, you don’t need anyone at all.”

Yuzuru rolled his eyes with a smile. They then heard their names called away ― break was over. Time to work back on that stupid show.

He saw Yuzuru laugh with Kanako backstage during one of the numbers of the gala, and something weird twisted in his stomach. He repressed the need to eavesdrop. The music was too loud to try and decipher what they were talking about, and Javier strangely remembered that he wouldn’t understand anyway.

It was time for Yuzuru’s solo, and as he entered the ice, sheers and shouts became deafening.

“He’s good, right?” Kanako was behind him.

Javier didn’t really get why she told him that, but the look on her face, for once, wasn’t mean, and that intrigued him. “He’s your friend?” he asked.

Kanako smirked, but still looked at Javier like he was annoying. “Yuzuru doesn’t do friends. But I have known him for a long time.”

“Oh,” Javier said.

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re hurt?” Then elbowed him. “Thought he cared?”

Javier rolled his eyes. “Hoped he was at least friends with someone. I figured, since you’re ― and he’s so, you know. So Japanese.”

She gave him a weird face.

“What?” he said.

“So Japanese?” she repeated, and Javier wondered if it had sounded racist. “Javier,” she turned her head to the ice, “have you ever looked at Yuzuru skating?”

Javier did. He saw the choreography he had seen about a hundred times before, heard the music he knew almost by heart by now. He saw the spins, the steps, the jumps. When, suddenly, at the turning of a movement, he felt. It was out of nowhere, like those triple axels he could pull off in the blink of an eye, and it left so quickly Javier wondered if he had dreamt it, or if he was looking for something who wasn’t there. If his mind, or Kanako’s words, had played on him.

He turned his head away, not sure why. It felt cowardly, weak, but he did it anyway, because it was too much, Yuzuru was too much. Too much to handle, out of this world.

It became sort of a habit, a ritual. Javier found himself dreading less and less the competitions, as he found himself in Yuzuru’s bedroom at night, or the other way around, when neither of them could sleep.

Javier would joke around, try to get Yuzuru to get off that negativity circle that would tend to swallow him when things got bad. They would sit next to each other on the couch or on a bed, and they would watch a movie, Javier pausing every once in while to explain major plot elements. Most of the times Yuzuru would fall asleep before the end. Javier would then allow himself to brush with his shaky fingers Yuzuru’s silky hair out of his forehead, when by accident his head rested on Javier's shoulder and stayed there.

Sometimes Yuzuru would know, without Javier having to ask ― he could never bring himself to ―, the way Javier wanted to be caressed that night, the light touch of his hand down his ear shell and his jawline, eyes closed, breath slow.

Or sometimes they would just hold hands in the dark, telling themselves without words it was okay as long as the light couldn’t find them. Javier wouldn’t have traded the calm those quiet nights brought, in the middle of the rush of everything, for anything else.

Brian wanted him to participate in a clinic he gave in Montréal for four weekends. With kids. To take his mind of the Grand Prix Final event, to which he didn’t qualify. He had no reason to refuse, and Brian knew it.

So he found himself waking up at four, regretting every single one of his life choices, to get into a six hours bus ride to a city that was supposed to be ‘so close to Toronto’. He did nap all the way, but was still exhausted when they arrived. He had no idea what to do, no plan, expect awkwardly following Brian around and wait for his instructions.

It wasn’t that Javier didn’t like kids, no. Or that he wasn’t good with them. In fact, it was quite the contrary. He liked kids way too much to be doing discipline or teach them anything serious. Which made him the worst possible instructor, as Brian quickly realized, because it was just like having to manage eleven kids instead of ten.

“Javier ― no, that’s dangerous, please ― please stop that.”

Javier looked at him, six kids hanging at various heights to his body, like he was some kind of party pooper.

“Javi, Javi,” one little girl pulled on his sleeve to get his attention. “Why did you beat Patrick Chan at Skate Canada last year?”

“Uhh.” Javier didn’t quite know what answer was expected from him. “Because I was better. Should I have just let him win?”

“Yeah,” a freckled boy exclaimed. “Because it was in his home! He deserved to win in his home.”

“Okay, first, Ottawa is not Patrick’s home―”

“Javier, quit arguing with ten-years-old, please.”

And the day went so quickly Javier didn’t realize how exhausted he was until he crashed in his hotel room’s bed.

The thing you realized, the more you went into hotels, was that in the end, every room was just like the other. The beddings smelled the same, the furniture arrangement was the same, the little shampoo bottles were the same. Javier didn’t have trouble falling asleep, but waking up the next morning without a small bundle of limbs rounded up in the other corner of the bed felt strange. Alarming, how quickly a routine could burn itself into one’s brain.

Javier learnt the names of the kids more quickly then he thought he would. In the span of only three days, he grew quite fond of many of them. He didn’t want to pick favorites, but he couldn’t help the little ache he felt in his heart at the view of the Estévez twins, eight years of age and rounded cheeks that made you want to squish them into a tight hug.

“You are the only reason I love to skate,” Ana Estévez told him, hiding her face into his leg as she hugged him, and he felt himself smile.

“Please stop losing,” added Ruben Estévez, and ah, there is was, the brilliant brutality of children.

He ruffled the boy's hair. “I’ll try."

Yuzuru came back from the Japanese Championships and Javier could tell he was feeling restless, looking like he wanted to crawl out of his bones. There was a thrill that finishing first in your country gave you and that couldn’t be explained, like being on top of the world, while simultaneously seeing the frontiers of it expand in a wide, breathtaking motion. A glass ceiling shattering into a million pieces, crushing diamonds in your hands.

He followed Javier to his flat that night, and the excuse was to pick up some bag he left last time he went, a month or so ago. But Javier could see it, in the way he was tripping over everything, the furniture, his feet, his words ― the way he was pushing his hair back behind his ears, a nervous attempt at self-shooting that only contributed to make him look more agitated ― he could see how Yuzuru was really looking for something to ground him, to feel at rest.

He tried his best to be composed and calming, as he made Yuzuru shit herbal tea ― the only thing he would drink, and the only reason Javier had that in his pantry. He listened to Yuzuru tell him about stuff Brian already told him, let him run and spin all around his flat to try to explain the choreographies and mistakes of performances, let him show him endless YouTube videos he already saw on T.V., all of it with a smile, and an interest that was, frankly, more than genuine.

When Yuzuru finally seemed to have calmed down, having vented out for more than a few hours, Javier suggested to drive him back to his home.

“It’s getting late, I have practice tomorrow.”

Yuzuru put a hand behind neck, looking self-conscious. “I, hm, I thinked―”, he looked up at Javier with tentative eyes. “I thought we could do, like, you know. Like in the competitions.”

Javier raised his eyebrows. “Uh ― sure,” he hesitated. “But won’t your mom be worried, and all?” It was already something that she now let sometimes Javier drive back Yuzuru after practice, not without a bone-chilling glare that told him to be very cautious. “You should ask her first.”

Yuzuru looked down, pushing a lock of hair back his right ear. “It’s okay, I ― uh. I already told her.” He looked rather embarrassed. That made Javier feel a bit weird.

“Okay, sure, then,” he chuckled, and saw tension relieving from Yuzuru’s shoulders. “Sleepover time. Make yourself at home,” he added, awkwardly, turning away to do the dishes.

Yuzuru never commented on how messy the flat was, always taking out his shoes out of the front door, not matter how many times Javier told him it really wasn’t the best of ideas. He could play with the cat for hours, so silent that Javier would even sometimes forget he was there. Tonight wasn’t one of these nights, though, and Yuzuru was following Javier like a shadow, a very loud and obnoxious one, bumping into stuff endlessly and even managing to make a potted plant drop on the floor.

He apologized so much that it was starting to irritate Javier, even more then the mess he actually had made. At some point, after he knocked his head over the hundredth thing, Javier snapped.

“You should just go to sleep.”

His tone was way more assertive then he intended it to be, but it seemed to do the trick. He didn’t mean to be rude, but was rather grateful when Yuzuru, with big eyes, quietly nodded and exited the living room. He sat on the floor and sighed.

When he got into his room, after cleaning the potted mess and taking a long shower, the lights were already closed, and Javier felt slightly guilty. He decided to stand his ground firm, though, and didn’t address Yuzuru a word as he slipped under the covers, facing away from him deliberately.

A long moment passed, tense, before any of them dared to make a movement. Javier’s eyes were shut tightly, hoping to fall asleep as soon as possible, but it was impossible. He was too aware of Yuzuru’s awareness of him, and could only wait. Wait for what?

Faintly, after an eternity, he sensed a weak, unsure touch between his shoulder blades, and it really felt like a victory. He didn’t turn around just yet, though, waiting to see how far Yuzuru would go to get his forgiveness. How much he wanted reconciliation before falling asleep. How much he would dare.

Softly, he felt Yuzuru’s hand go up his back to grip his shoulder. It rested there a moment, thumb moving in slow circles on his shoulder blade, unknotting whatever tension he found, before gently pulling it towards him. Javier’s torso turned to follow the movement, and he found himself on his back, staring at the ceiling, still refusing to look at Yuzuru. He wondered if it was killing the other just as much as it was killing him.

Yuzuru reached up tentatively to the tender spot on his neck, right below his ear, and Javier had to concentrate to keep his heartbeat steady. Despite his lack of response, Yuzuru didn’t give up, stroking unhurriedly from his arm up to the nape of his hair, and Javier even felt him getting closer, so close he could now feel his soft breath on his shoulder. And then he was bolder than ever before, getting desperate perhaps, and that’s what Javier wanted to see, the limits of this whole thing, where it would stop before driving the two of them crazy. His soft hand adventured itself down and downer, where it had never dared to go before, stroking in long, tentative motions Javier’s chest, his tummy, his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he would whisper as his finger wrinkled the hem of his collar, touching a little bit more of skin than before. “Sorry,” he said when his nails gently scraped against one of his nipple, then again, then once more, “sorry,” when Javier shivered from head to toe. “Sorry,” as his hand wondered up his hip, under his t-shirt and right on his burning skin.

And Javier had enough.

He grabbed Yuzuru’s wrist in a firm gesture, pinning it next to his head as he slid a leg over his hips, flipping him on his back, caging him with his arms. He felt dizzy, and there was something exhilarating about having Yuzuru like this, under him, so pliant but so tense at the same time. He locked his eyes into his, both bitter and grateful of the darkness so that his expression was indistinct.  He would have liked to see the gleam in Yuzuru’s eyes, but wasn’t sure he could’ve handled it.

He wasn’t sure either of what got him to lower his body even closer to Yuzuru’s. He slid a hand at the back of his neck, between the hot skin and the pillow, and dug his fingers lightly in the hair of his nape. He lowered his face in the creak of his neck and shoulder.

He took a long breath there, feeling Yuzuru trembling, all over, and slowly put his lips on the soft, sensitive skin. Yuzuru’s free hand gripped at the back of his t-shirt, as he exhaled a breathy sigh. Javier kept on mouthing along the fine line of his neck, and squeezed his knees even tighter around Yuzuru’s hips. 

But then, Yuzuru started pushing back against him, small body hanging on to his, breath getting increasingly heavy, and Javier got overwhelmed.

He moved away in a snap, cutting himself off from every place he had been in contact with Yuzuru’s body. For a moment, in the darkness, all that could be heard in the silence of the apartment was the ragged sound of their breaths. He sensed Yuzuru sitting up, wrapping his arms around his knees.

“Let’s not do that again,” Javier said at some point. Yuzuru nodded, quiet.

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” Javier rubbed a hand across his face, “it’s not ― don’t apologize.”

A beat. “I should go back to home.”

Javier sighed. “No, it’s okay, just―”

But Yuzuru was already getting up, inaudible and discreet, and so much was racing down in Javier’s mind that he couldn’t properly articulate words to stop him. It wasn’t a good idea to let him go at night like this, he didn’t even know if he could hail a cab, this was too awkward, they needed to talk, they ― Yuzuru was gone.

Javier tried to go back to sleep, tossing and turning in bedsheets that smelled like someone who would probably never come back.

He went and won the Spain Nationals for the third time in a row ― not knowing how or why. It might have been linked to the amount of focus he put in practice, trying to get his mind off everything else, training for hours and hours without glancing back at the trail of ruins every other aspect of his life had been for the past year and a half now.

When he came back, he got his first real taste of how ruthless could Yuzuru Hanyu be.

Turned out things appeared to be pretty much black and white to him, and when you weren’t anymore in this weird, unusual grey spot that had seemed to be reserved to Javier up until now, you were either an ally or an enemy. At the premises of this Olympic season, Javier was the latter.

Practice became unbearable. They didn’t exchange a single word on or off the rink anymore, and even glances began to be something tricky. The tension was too much for anyone to bear after a week, and Brian had to separate their training sessions for an unlimited period of time.

“It’s not my fault,” Javier had argued when Brian confronted him about it. “You know I’ve never had problems being friends with my competitors before.”

And that much was true, if you didn’t take into account the strange, haunting intimacy that seeped into what they had without both of them knowing how to deal with it. It didn’t matter anymore anyway. It never did ― except at those weird hours of the night, when Javier found himself to have no one to talk to anymore, left alone in his bed with a bone-crushing ache for something he wasn’t sure he ever had the right to desire. He would take out his phone in the dark, fingers hovering over the keyboard, over Courtney’s contact, wanting to type I miss you or maybe I’m sorry, but unsure about who he really wanted to send it to.

He had already announced he wouldn’t participate in the next year’s Grand Prix event, the stinging humiliation of not being accepted to the final too much to handle. But when he came in the Montréal’s third skating clinic with the kids, little Ruben Estévez was waiting for him with eyes full of expectations.

“Javi, you heard?” The excitement of the young boy was so big that he could barely stay still. “About the Grand Prix of next year?”

“What about it?” Javier took of his jacket, sipping his coffee to un-haze his sleepy mind.

“You didn’t hear?” Ruben grabbed the bottom of his shirt with his two little fists. “It’s going to be in Spain, Javier. In Barcelona!”

“Oh.” Javier raised an eyebrow. That sounded very unlikely. “Sure about that?”

Ruben took out of his pocket a folded piece of a magazine, and shoved it into his hands. “Look, look, it’s in the sport newspaper!”

And Javier couldn’t help but to. The kid was right. A weird feeling washed over him.

“You’re going to win, right, Javi?” Ruben was jumping. “Win the Grand Prix in our home!”

“Listen, Ruben, I―” Javier swallowed. “I said already I wouldn’t participate in, uh, next year’s Grand Prix.”

Ruben’s big eyes got even bigger as he shook his head. “But it’s not too late, right? Not to late to say you will still!”

Javier lowered his eyes. He should be talking about this to Brian, should take time to rest his brain before taking any decision. His focus was the Olympics, next year was so far away, and he would look ridiculous coming back on a statement he already made ―

“I guess it’s not too late, no.” he heard himself saying.

It wasn’t.

He didn’t win the Olympics, of course. To be fair, he never really believed he would. It all felt like a dream, or more of a parallel reality, those whole two weeks, with the scandal interview, his mistakes, Patrick Chan’s mistakes, Yuzuru’s gold ― and Javier wasn’t even sure it all really had happened.

After the medal ceremony, Brian had given him, without a word, a set of keys, and Javier knew right away which doors they opened. It was past midnight when he put back his skates on, and entered the empty Olympic practice rink in silence.

He skated on the unmarked ice, all cleaned by the Zamboni for the hockey practice tomorrow, and smiled at the thought of the reaction the staff would have the next morning seeing the traces of his lonely blades. He let his thoughts wander, his body moving just for the feeling of it, without choreography, musicality, or grace. He thought about the Olympic village where a raging party was going on right now. He thought of what he would do if he was given the chance to do it all again ― he wasn’t even sure he would take it.

He thought of what M. Button had said somewhere in an interview, this legendary skater, the praise he had given him -- Javier Fernández. It felt so bittersweet now.

Javier Fernandez is probably the best skater in the world. Sad thing that he was competing against something otherworldly.

He heard the large doors of the arena open and close, even though he remembered locking them. He stopped skating and turned around, but he strangely wasn’t afraid of being caught. He recognized Yuzuru’s silhouette. There was no surprise. He must have known, somehow, it would be him.

They stared at each for a few seconds. Javier resumed on skating.

Without a word, Yuzuru entered the rink, and without a word, Javier adapted his skate to leave him the space he needed. Like in practice, it was becoming an automatism. Skating together felt natural. Out of everything, out of the tension and jealousy and weirdness and bitterness, all least there was still that.

Time went by, but it was almost as if it didn’t. It was like a breach in the mess of the past two weeks, the past two months. At some point, Yuzuru stopped and looked at him. Javier stopped too. For the first time in very long, he could feel it again, the way Yuzuru gave him his full and unrestrained attention. It felt both overwhelming and comforting. Just like those quiet nights from before.

“You ask me before why I came to train in Canada,” Yuzuru’s voice found its way in the silence of the empty stadium, without breaking its solemnity. “I thought Brian tell you.”

Javier grimaced as he looked down. “So that you could win the Olympics? You did.”

“So that I could train with Javier Fernandez,” Yuzuru said. It was soft, honest, and felt like a confession, somehow. “I did. I asked everyday Brian so that I could train in the same time as Javier Fernandez.”

Javier scoffed, without joy. “Yeah. Used to be a good skater, I heard.”

“Still is.” Yuzuru breathed. “And I owe everything I win to him.”

At that, Javier felt himself smile. “You’re being a bit dramatic.”

“Am not.” Yuzuru looked down, lips tight, looking as he was trying to gather up all his courage. He then did a few fast strokes in Javier’s direction, put both of his hands on his shoulders, and pushed him without more ceremony to the side of the rink. “I want to show to you something.” He was biting the side of his lower lip. “My favorite program from Javier Fernandez.”

And Javier expected his SP from two years ago, the best he ever did, the one that got him his European champion title.

But as Yuzuru closed his eyes, concentrated, and started the very program he did this year, the one he performed yesterday in front of the whole world and somehow failed, and Javier didn’t understand anymore.

Yuzuru skated with his eyes still shut, and Javier could see he was nervous, and it wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t perfect, it had never been, but looking at it from another perspective made it appear a thousand times more touching.

Javier saw Yuzuru making the moves, the edges, the spins. But he also saw himself, somehow, and it was so strange because he wasn’t the one that choreographed it, and wasn’t the one interpreting it, but it was still his, it was still him. And no matter how much he loathed it, because it made him lose, and it made him fall, he couldn’t deny that it was worth something. It was beautiful.

Yuzuru stopped, breath heavy, in the middle of the rink, and opened his eyes. Javier’s throat was too tight to articulate any word for a long time.

“When the hell did you get the time to learn that, you prodigy,” he finally breathed, disbelieving that Brian would let Yuzuru take practice time for something so futile, for something like Javier.

Yuzuru shrugged. “I look at it a lot on internet.” His eyes met Javier’s. “It is my favorite. I can’t do justice.”

“You did.”

“I love your past programs as well,” Yuzuru continued, and he wasn’t hesitating, he seemed certain of every word. “The ones that get you the most medals and the most points before. But this one is the best. And I know ― I know the one after this one is even better. And the one after and after too. Even if you look back and get afraid it won’t ever be as good ― you will. Progress is no straight line ―,” he smiled, “And it is not too late.”

Javier was so immersed in Yuzuru’s eyes that he didn’t even notice how close they were, how close they grew to be. His hand dropped at the back of Yuzuru’s neck and it felt natural, it felt like it belonged. He left thumb grace over Yuzuru’s soft cheek, and watched him lean in to the touch, closing his eyes for a breath before reopening them, kind and a little hesitant too. Javier could feel his pulse fluttering on his palm, quick, warm, and alive.

He pressed his forehead against Yuzuru’s. “It’s not?” He breathed, and he wanted to allow himself to believe.

Yuzu smiled. “It’s not.”