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Brian catches sight of them out of the corner of his eye when he gets tired of pouring over schedules and next season’s plans. It’s a lucky coincidence, really. He’s looking out of his office widow at just the right time to see Shoma ride the bike over the stretch of parking lot that is visible from the office. Most of it is hidden behind the roof of the swimming pool. Lucky, for Brian, that he sees Shoma swerve and almost fall off, the movement enough to catch his interest. Shoma then gets off the bike. He waves, bends at the waist, laughing.
It’s inaudible, of course; he is much too far away, the figure small enough to be hidden by Brian’s thumb if he were to measure them against each other. It shouldn’t be interesting at all, but Brian lingers, leaning on the windowsill and waiting.
Yuzu runs over, coming to a stand next to the bike. His posture looks uncharacteristically insecure. That is Yuzu after he’s done something really very wrong, about to fess up to his shenanigans. The bent head, the curled shoulders, the cutesy tilt of his head. It doesn’t work as well on little Shoma Uno, because Yuzu curls over him. Brian wonder what Shoma’s expression would say. He can’t read the kid well enough, though he’s seen him around rather a lot over the last few seasons.
Shoma, usually not one for grand gestures, is waving his hands around. He looks slightly exasperated, maybe. Brian should really learn to read him, if he’s going to be visiting this often, getting choreography from David and sneaking into lessons with Tracy like she won’t notice the shadow by Yuzu’s side. Shoma seems to be miming the movement of the pedals, and even from this far away, Brian can tell he is overwhelmed with the task of teaching Yuzu anything at all.
Yuzu nods his head in a way Brian knows very well. It’s his attentive, active-listening nod, which Yuzu employs when he theoretically understands something but won’t put it into action because he thinks he knows better. Brian despises that nod, but he also finds it hilarious to see it directed at someone else.
Shoma climbs off the bike. He motions at it. Yuzu, hesitantly, stretches a leg over the saddle. It’s a little low on him, so it looks a little silly, but it’s not too low. They must have set a middle ground in height between Shoma’s feet reaching the pedals and Yuzu being able to comfortably settle on the bike without completely scrunching up. It must have made it real difficult for the kid to reach the floor earlier. He handled it with more grace than Yuzu is.
He pushes off the ground with a foot. The bike rolls, and Yuzu should have the balance to gain velocity and rhythm enough to keep the bike steady, but no. He wobbles, the bike slows, he wobbles worse, and his feet steady him. Shoma makes an impatient gesture, and Yuzu throws his head back in laughter. He says something, and Brian isn’t sure he saw what he saw.
It’s blink and you miss it, Shoma moving in, hand on Yuzu’s shoulder and leaning in. It was funny to watch them when it was just biking but Brian doesn’t want to witness something they aren’t making public. It’s not his space, even though they are technically...
Well. He clears his throat. Yuzu is rolling again, both feet on the ground, and Shoma is jogging along. Brian almost thinks he can hear Yuzu’s laughter, because he can see it in the set of his shoulders, in the way he tilts his head. He thinks he can see it in Shoma, too. It’s nice, that they are having fun, finally.
It’s not like Brian didn’t see a revelation of some sort coming. There’s no reason for Shoma to be visiting, other than their casual friendship deepening to something more. There was no reason for Yuzu’s extended visits home, the way he clings to the kid when they compete at the same events. The change in his face when they look at each other, the way he’s been obsessed with Shoma’s progress ever since he turned senior. It’s curious, Brian thinks, that these young athletes balance the demands of the sport, the competitiveness, with their personal lives. How capable they are of friendship. And more.
Brian sits back down in his plush chair with a sigh. There is a lot of filing to do, as a coach. There is a lot to take care of.
***
“It’s not a scooter with a seat,” Shoma says, when Yuzu refuses to put his feet on the pedals. Yuzu throws his head back and pushes on, walking in big strides as the bike propels him forward. Shoma makes an exasperated noise and jogs along.
“Why don’t people do it like this?” It’s a lot of fun. A lot more fun than putting both feet onto the pedals and pushing, anyway. Yuzu can’t figure out the speed he needs to keep the bike on a forward trajectory while he figures out how to fold himself into the mechanism. And then he doesn’t know how it’ll work, how to steer and pedal and pay attention to his surroundings all at the same time. This is easier and more fun! Besides, it means Shoma makes sweeping gestures and tries to explain, and it’s adorable to watch his face scrunch in discomfort at this new role.
He shouldn’t have offered to teach Yuzu. But he kept mentioning that he cannot believe Yuzu can’t bike. He has been keeping on about it for weeks, okay, he gets to suffer for making fun of Yuzu.
“Yuzu!” Shoma calls, and Yuzu comes to a stop with both his feet solidly on the ground. When Shoma was demonstrating, his feet hovered a good solid hand width over the ground and he had to tilt the bike to the side to get off. It looked overly dangerous. Yuzu is not doing that. he’s very glad he has a few inches on Shoma. Shoma, who is developing well-familiar red blotches on his cheeks from the exertion and whose face is, probably beside himself, stretched into a big grin.
Yuzu grins back at him, leans back on the bike in a cool pose. “See, I can bike now. I am on a bike and I have covered ground, that’s all that matters, right?”
Shoma giggles and shakes his head. “You need to pedal, otherwise it doesn’t count.” He steps closer, places his hand on Yuzu’s shoulder. Yuzu stills. “Are you scared?” Shoma laughs. Yuzu tilts up, onto his feet and presses his lips to Shoma’s to shut him up.
“No,” he says, and rolls on with a good strong push forward. He can’t explain to himself why he cannot force himself to let go off the ground. He propels himself into the air on the regular, it’s not that different. He has great balance, he’s strong, has good body control. Biking should come easy to him, but he hesitates.
“We can try it on the lawn?” Shoma suggests, after a few minutes of Yuzu pushing off, trying to get his feet onto the pedals and then resting them on the ground again. “Then when you fall over, it’ll be softer?”
Yuzu throws him a look and turns the bike in the opposite direction, to cross the parking lot once more. He’s getting heated under the sun, that’s why his face has gotten all warm.
Shoma giggles again, the sound so cute and squeaky that Yuzu throws a look over his shoulder. He halts at the look on Shoma’s face. It’s a little bit devious. He is about to deliver a burn, so Yuzu schools his own features. “Or I can hold the back of the bike like this,” Shoma demonstrates, stepping closer to wraps his hands under the seat, thumbs resting against the sides. He isn’t really touching Yuzu’s butt but he could be. It’s a bad, bad idea. “like my dad did, when he taught me and Itsuki. We didn’t have the little wheels, we just had my dad to stabilize us, and once we got it, he let go and we just... did it.”
“Just did it,” Yuzu echoes.
“Oh, shut it, mister shuu-pa triple axel,” Shoma answers, and pushes at the seat. It unbalances Yuzu enough for him to startle, but Shoma just keeps pushing.
“No, Shoma,” Yuzu curses, then curses again, when his feet can’t quite catch up.
“Up,” Shoma yells, and he sounds much too delighted about this, “Onto the pedals, come on.”
Yuzu wobbles, wobbles more, and he can tell Shoma is struggling to stabilize him, so he plants his feet onto the ground and stumbles off. Something about this was too much, too disorienting, like he’s lost hold of himself for a moment. Shoma looks at him, a hint of insecurity but mostly still laughing.
“Lawn?” Yuzu offers. The insecurity drains from Shoma’s features, and he steps around the bike and closer to Yuzu. It’s an offer, Yuzu can tell. Shoma pushed a little too hard, and Yuzu got scared and now Shoma is offering the only comfort he knows will surely work. Yuzu is a sucker for a good hug, okay, and Shoma is rarely offering.
The parking lot is deserted at this time of day. Everyone is gone for the day, which is why they are out here in the first place. No witnesses to Yuzu’s failure, just as he likes it. Shoma shuffles even closer, the bike which is leant against his hip rolls a few inches before Shoma catches it by the metal bar in the middle. Yuzu steps forward, and wraps his arms around Shoma’s neck. Shoma pats his back, a little awkwardly. It’s funny, that he cannot seem to get used to this, Yuzu’s cheek pressed to his, and arms around each other, sharing space.
“Ok,” Yuzu says, “I am gonna get this today.” He pulls back from the hug, and catches Shoma’s earnest nod. He is blushing deeply, which is adorable, but more precious is the expression in his eyes: something fond, encouraging, adoring. And, well, he is also definitely measuring Yuzu up.
“On the lawn, though,” Shoma insists, and takes the bike by the handlebars. He starts pushing towards the exit of the parking lot.
“Uh,” Yuzu mentions, offhand, “there’s only one green spot I can think of?”
“Oh?” Shoma answers, and keeps going. He does that, sometimes, where he won’t pause to think or plan, but just do things like they come naturally to him. Yuzu knows Shoma is as wont to overthinking as everyone, but in moments like this, he sees the stubborn determination shine through that makes Shoma such an excellent sportsman.
“The park is 20 minutes away?” It’s not meant to keep them from going, but it’s definitely a stretch. And they’ve been out here for a while. Yuzu likes the park, he goes after training sometimes, takes his notes and tablet and sits under a tree. He feeds the squirrels seeds, even though technically it’s not allowed. The park is nice, but there might be people there who will recognise him.
Shoma swings a leg onto the bike and places one foot on the lowered pedal. The other one is too far up for him to each, which is adorable, and makes something warm pang in Yuzu’s chest.
“Get on, then.” Shoma says, and points towards the handlebars. There’s no rack on the back of the bike so there’s nowhere else for him to sit. Yuzu was about to complain about having to run along to Shoma’s biking but this is probably worse.
“No,” Yuzu exclaims.
Shoma laughs at him. “Come on, it’s not dangerous, I promise. Don’t be a chicken?” He is leaning forward, pointing at the dip in the handlebars, and the big screws which fasten the wheel to the front of the bike. They look big enough to balance on, theoretically, but it just doesn’t seem safe.
“I’ll go slow,” Shoma reassures him, “slow enough for you to hop off any time you think it’s getting too wild.” He sounds like he is having too much fun with this.
“Have you done this before?”
Shoma shrugs. “Yeah, as a kid. I used to cart Itsuki around like that when he got tired. He’s let me try a few times, as well. It’s fun.”
“Fun,” Yuzu echoes. He might as well try. “How do I?”
Shoma points out the places to hold on, where Yuzu should place his feet, and his butt, and then Yuzu is perching on the front of the bike, and Shoma, without warning, steps into the pedals. Yuzu lurches back, and Shoma must have seen it coming, because he’s up and against Yuzu, enough for him to right himself and make sense of what’s happening.
It feels fast, and unbalanced and like they are going to tilt and crash and potentially die. But Shoma pedals steadily despite the fact that the bike is too big and Yuzu is probably heavy and that he doesn’t know the way and Yuzu has to tell him where to go. They lurch a few times. Yuzu feels like jumping off a few times more, but he also kind of doesn’t.
It’s fun, seeing the world rush by like this, knowing there’s someone behind him to hold him up and steady him should he lose grip. Yuzu holds on tightly, of course, body tense like a spring, but with Shoma’s arms bracketing him, it’s mostly safe. It feels, not secure, exactly, but worth the risk.
Maybe that’s what he was missing, before. A recognition of what’s worth a risk, because this is different than rolling around with his feet on the ground. This is what Yuzu imagines flying to feel like. He half wants to spread his arms and feel the air soar around him. He laughs, throws his head back in mirth at the thought of completely letting go of all his tethers, and when he mentions it to Shoma, he hears him laugh behind him, and that becomes part of the experience as well.
“I think I can do it, now,” Yuzu says, when Shoma slows and turns into the park. His legs feel like jelly when he jumps off the handlebars, but they return to their usual stability in seconds. Shoma, with his tip-toes braced on the ground, grins up at Yuzu.
“We’ll see,” he laughs. His hair is blown every which way, and he is laughing at Yuzu, but he’s lovely, and he gave this to Yuzu, and Yuzu half wants to kiss him for it. But they’re in a park, in public, and he can’t risk it. He tries to express the feeling with his smile, and marks the lost kiss in the back of his mind, to catch up on later.
“Well, try, then,” Shoma offers, and swings himself off the bike with casual grace. He points towards the even expanse of grass that makes up the main area of the park. There are a few people walking dogs, a few students on blankets, and couples sharing picnics, but nobody pays attention to two Japanese boys and their shenanigans.
Yuzu grips the handlebars and gets on. He leans forward a little, like he felt Shoma do before, and pushes one of the pedals down, feeling it move the bike forward. He places his foot on it, pushes off with the other, and for a moment, he thinks he’s got it.
Then he loses control of his arms somehow, and the handlebars swing and the bike tilts and Yuzu in in the grass. He wasn’t going very fast, so it doesn’t hurt, but he’s winded from the shock.
“Shit,” he hears Shoma curse, somewhere above him, “Yuzu!”
“I’m fine,” Yuzu wheezes. It’s kinda fun to fall from something that isn’t figure skating, and onto something that isn’t ice. His lungs let him breathe after a moment, and then Yuzu enjoys the sun on his face and the ant climbing up the blade of grass in his periphery. He’s still somewhat entangles with the bike, which he notices only when Shoma pushes it off him and to the side. He sits down next to Yuzu, and then he shrugs and lies down.
“Do you want to take a break?” he asks, quietly because he is lying so close. The sun colours his hair reddish and his skin tan, and his eyes are darker now than they were minutes ago. Yuzu files another kiss away in the back of his head. Shoma reaches out, traces the curve of Yuzu’s cheek with his finger, and giggles. Yuzu could get used to the sound.
“I want to try again,” he says, anyway.
He doesn’t fall again, but there are a few false starts. It’s more difficult to steer on the grass and the pedals resist more, but Yuzu almost likes that. He manages a few meters. Shoma cheers, loud enough to attracts glances from passerbys, but Yuzu doesn’t really care because he’s doing it. He almost has it.
He pushes off with his feet to turn the bike around and head back to Shoma. Places one foot on the pedal that is up, wraps his hands securely around the handlebars, with enough pressure to keep them from shifting left or right, and then he pushes down. The bike moves, Yuzu manages to get his other food onto the pedal, and pushes again.
Shoma rips his arms up into the air and cheers again. Yuzu laughs, passes him and rides.
***
She has seen the boy around the park a few times while walking Smithie and Roberts. He usually sits quietly, unobtrusive. She says hi as she passes, and he says hello back. Sometimes she catches him talking in a quiet voice to the squirrels and the bees and the trees, she thinks. He usually stops when he notices someone looking at him, blushes and focuses on his schoolwork. She doesn’t know the language that he speaks to them and doesn’t want to assume anything.
He seems lonely, though. She’s thought so before, because what student sits in the park on their own, surrounded only by notes and research. She sees him here often enough to have gotten used to the sight. He’s been coming here for the past five or so years, just as she had. She’d adopted Roberts, back then, after her daughter had told her to go out more, that she was getting to be a hermit. Smithie followed soon after, because when you have one dog, you might as well have two.
Today, the boy passes by her on his bike. Not once, or twice. It happens a few times, often enough for her to note how badly adjusted the bike is, how the saddle should be higher and the handlebars as well. But she’s never seen him on a bike before, so this one might be borrowed goods. He whoops when he manages a particularly tight turn without setting his foot down, and she laughs, and he swerves and turns back and rides past her again, enough room to spare to startle neither her nor the dogs.
He had petted Roberts one time, when the little asshole ran off. He had laughed then, and talked broken English to her misbehaving big black dog that often makes people feel threatened. That laugh hadn’t sounded like he does now, cackling loud and obnoxious as he rides a bike down the path. There’s another boy stood at the end of it, waiting for him. When the boy passes, the other reaches out a hand, and they high five. Another whoop erupts. He’s shorter and stockier and she’s never seen him before, but he cheers, too. A little more contained, perhaps, but just as overjoyed.
She smiles at them as she walks by, says hi as always. She’s not sure they noticed her, too invested in talking to each other, but she feels lighter to have seen them. Smithie pulls at her leash, demands her attention. Behind her, she hears laughter.