Chapter Text
[ Still awake? Can i come over? ]
Javi read the text from Yuzuru with a raised eyebrow but sent back a quick affirmative and room number.
It’s been 3 years since his bronze in Pyeongchang. Javi still competed in Euros the year after, but went on full retirement at the end of that season. For the last 2 years, he’s been based in Madrid, attending ice shows in three different continents. It was a good life; not everyone can say they were being paid to do something they love. It was also a good way to keep in touch with friends.
Javi invariably saw Yuzuru in the ice shows in Japan during skating off-season. It was different from when they were rinkmates and saw each other practically everyday, but the lack of tension that being rivals brought also gave them easier dynamics. When they first see each other, Yuzuru would always greet him with a long, tight hug, muttering i missed you to his neck, and be extra affectionate for the next couple of days, hugging Javi often, until they eventually settle into the rhythm of the ice tour. Javi returned the hugs just as tight, years of practice making him adept at ignoring the emotions that well up inside him. It was almost like their early days in Toronto. The older skaters were used to it, and the younger ones, well, they eventually get used to it.
At 30, Javi was definitely one of the uncles in the group. Some of the skaters here weren’t even in the senior circuit when he first semi-retired. Technically, Yuzuru was one as well but he always seemed to be in the middle of whatever shenanigan was happening regardless. Yuzuru being Yuzuru, and this being Japan, he was treated by staff and crew like a cross between rock star and benevolent deity. Yuzuru was unfailingly polite and usually went out of his way to make people feel more comfortable but they never quite lose their awe of him, their laughter at his jokes always held a tinge of nervousness. It was better with the older skaters, those who knew Yuzuru when he was still a thin strip of a boy with long arms, and a penchant for shiny costumes. But the younger ones, most of whom had hung Yuzuru's posters on their bedroom walls as they were growing up, never quite see him as anything other than 2-time Olympic gold medalist Yuzuru Hanyu.
Javi opened the door to the knock and Yuzuru stepped inside. Yuzuru turned and gave Javi a hug. Yuzuru was freshly showered and smelled of the same citrusy shampoo that he used in all the years they were together in Toronto. Javi inhaled and recalled better days. Yuzuru stepped back and Javi had to smile. The years had been very kind to Yuzuru. At 26, he has finally lost the teenage boy look and has firmly landed on this side of adult as a beautiful, young man. Javi spared a moment to miss the soft, chubby cheeked Yuzuru but this version was, truth be told, equally fine.
Yuzuru had announced his retirement from competitive figure skating at the Worlds gala three weeks ago. This year would be the last time he would reign as Olympic, Grand Prix, and Worlds champion. The figure skating community is still in shock. Given his great run this season, people had expected Yuzuru to be at the Beijing Olympics next year to defend his title; the successful defense of his Worlds title just adding to the certainty. But Javi knew better. Yuzuru’s ankle and knee won’t take him past this season. Yuzuru defended his Worlds title through sheer force of will, but there wasn’t enough left to get him to Beijing. As it is, Yuzuru would spend the rest of his life icing his knees and ankles, favoring his back, the pain in his joints telling him when a cold front would arrive days before it actually hits. Much like Javi himself.
Yuzuru called Javi the night he won Worlds. Javi had watched the podium ceremony, and the press interviews, and knew that Yuzuru had probably just gone up to his hotel room. He looked tired on the small phone screen. Javi expected more exuberance from the newly crowned winner and said so. Yuzuru smiled, affirmed that he was happy with the win, that he skated his best, and couldn’t have been prouder of himself. Yuzuru told Javi of his decision to retire. His team already knew; they prepared for Worlds to be his last competition; he wanted as perfect a skate as he could do for the world to remember him by. Yuzuru didn’t exactly sound sad, just quiet, pensive. Javi knew that, ultimately, Yuzuru only competed with his own self, and that night he won a beautiful victory.
Javi didn’t question that Yuzuru called him the night of his momentous decision. Their bond was forged in ice, and tempered through years of pain, sweat, and tears. It stretched beyond Javi’s retirement and loss of daily contact.
It has been three years since they last shared a podium together. Yuzuru had continued to soar while Javi stepped back from the limelight and tried to make sense of the retired life at just 27 years old. He started some coaching classes, had tie-ups with Brian in Toronto, and did ice shows. His friends had started marrying off one by one, and going out in clubs filled with people ten years younger than him began to lose its appeal. His mother started hinting at wanting grandkids. Three months ago, Javi proposed to his girlfriend. They’ve been dating for a little over a year by then. She was beautiful, smart, and did caricatures that made him laugh. She couldn’t sing but was an excellent cook. She looked great in heels. His friends and family liked her. It was time.
They sent out the invitations a month ago. He sent one to Brian and Tracy each, with a handwritten note saying he would take it as a personal favor if they could come. He also sent one to Yuzuru. Javi couldn’t quite decide if he wanted Yuzuru to come or not.
His feelings for Yuzuru have always been...complicated. He values Yuzuru certainly. The 6 years they spent together in Toronto had shaped Javi, in the same way that he also imprinted himself on Yuzuru. He wishes Yuzuru success - his breath catches and his stomach feels leaden whenever Yuzuru takes a spill, and he never quite relaxes until Yuzuru gets up again. These are truths he can say to the press which, until now, still ask him about his former training mate.
If he’s honest, Javi will admit that back then, especially when his practice was not going well, he resented Yuzuru a little for being too good for mere mortals like Javi to beat. At the same time, Javi was in awe of Yuzuru’s magnificence on the ice. Yuzuru would take to the ice and time would stand still for Javi, as he drinks in the beauty and grace that is somehow not quite of this world. This is not the best mindset when looking at your rival for the top of the podium but Yuzuru moves Javi the way only the cold ice beneath his skates ever did. Javi will readily admit that he really likes Yuzuru - he’s sweet and funny and considerate when he’s not focused on training or intense in competition - but Javi never cared for the toxic, highly pressurized environment that surrounds Yuzuru that, by extension, also used to affect Javi. The media attention, the screaming fans, and the need for bodyguards changes Yuzuru into someone else. It’s not exactly fake, but it’s not real either. Javi much prefers the Yuzuru he sees at the TCC during daily practice, a Yuzuru that is both softer and harder at the same time, a dichotomy of easy smiles and edges so sharp they can cut. These are more complicated truths that are harder to explain to people.
And then there are the truths that Javi has always known but has never dared to say.
Yuzuru now stands politely in the middle of Javi’s hotel room, looking around.
“Let me guess,” said Javi, “they gave you a bigger room.”
Yuzuru nods. “A suite, yes.”
“Figures. At least I don’t have to share this room. Perks of being a senior.” Javi really didn’t mind though. The show organizers made sure that their skaters are comfortable. And he knew that Yuzuru always travelled with a team. A suite would make better sense, giving Yuzuru some privacy when his people are in the ante-room.
“Come, sit,” Javi said, gesturing to both the bed and chair by the writing desk. Yuzuru chose the edge of the bed. Javi leaned his hip on the table but remained standing.
Yuzuru looked tired and Javi told him so. The group has been together for a few days now, learning the choreography. Retired skaters like Javi needed more time to practice their individual programs but the younger skaters - fresh from skating season - were ready with their exhibition or toned-down versions of their competitive programs. Yuzuru was caught up in a media blitz after his win and announcement, and only joined them that afternoon.
“I am a little. But I wanted to talk now. While I’m still feeling brave,” said Yuzuru.
Javi frowned. “What do you need to be brave for?” he asked.
Yuzuru hesitated. “You don’t want small talk first?” Yuzuru said.
Javi raised an eyebrow. “That bad, huh?”
“I don’t know if it’s bad. It’s why I want to ask”, Yuzuru said with nervous smile, tucking his hair behind one ear.
“What is it, Yuzu?” Javi said.
Yuzuru took a deep breath, seeming to brace himself, then held Javi’s gaze. “I wanted to ask if there’s a chance. If you still loved me,” Yuzuru said, voice soft but firm.
Javi felt like someone had hit his chest with a sandbag. If someone had asked him why Yuzuru wanted to see him tonight, this conversation would have been the farthest thing on his mind.
Javi had loved Yuzuru. He had spent years doing his best to make Yuzuru laugh, when hearing the joyous sound was its own reward. Yuzuru had a certain smile that Javi thinks he only gives to him, and Javi hoarded those like a miser his gold. He had lusted after Yuzuru. He dreamt of kissing those sweet lips and marking that porcelain skin, of hearing him moan with need as he pushed his cock inside Yuzuru’s body. He dreamt this while awake, and while he slept. Scenarios filled his head in the rink, in competitions, during breaks, in his bed. At some point, Javi had had to accept that while Yuzuru loved him back in his own way, Yuzuru’s figure skating career was more important to him than what he could have with Javi. It was not an easy thing to do but one can only argue with reality for so long.
They have known each other for two years when Javi first kissed Yuzuru. He wasn’t alone in this; Javi wasn’t blind, he knew Yuzuru loved him as well. He knew it from the way Yuzuru turned his cheek into Javi’s palm whenever he reached up and touched Yuzuru’s face, from the way Yuzuru leaned into him whenever Javi pulled him in for a hug, the way Yuzuru would laugh and smile against Javi’s neck, the way their eyes would meet across the rink and Yuzuru’s eyes would crinkle and almost disappear as he returned Javi’s smile.
But Yuzuru was 19 and wanted more from the world than just one Olympic gold medal.
Javi became proficient at hiding his desires, focusing instead on the friendship, so much so that he sometimes forgot about them. Until Yuzuru tilts his head certain way that would invite any sane man to lick that slender neck and suck on it until the blood under the thin skin bloomed and marked it as his. Or Yuzuru would stand, one hand on the hip, one finger pressed to his pouted lips, deep in thought, inviting unsuspecting people to skate over and claim those same lips for his own. It would have driven Javi insane but the alternative - to not see Yuzuru all - was not even worth contemplating. And if the hard place is unbearable, then you learn to sit on the rock as comfortably as you can.
It wasn’t all bad. Yuzuru may have rejected Javi’s feelings but he never withdrew his. Yuzuru still smiled, leaned in, hugged, whispered, touched and altogether attempted to drive Javi mad. Javi stood it for two more years plus change before he finally stepped back out of sheer self-preservation.
Yuzuru noted the change in Javi, and his smiles - the soft, loving ones that he used to shower lavishly on Javi, and only on Javi - gradually tapered off. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but they both had medals to win and, in Yuzuru’s case, world records to break. By their final year in Toronto, they weren’t even training on the same rink.
Javi made another attempt after Pyeongchang. Emotions were running high and something about winning a medal in the Olympics made Javi feel like he could conquer anything. One moment Yuzuru was crying with happiness and kissing him back; the next he was just crying, saying “I can’t” in between sobs. Javi moved on. Living in different continents helped. During the few times they see each other in ice shows, they are able to focus on the friendship, not the messy parts where wet kisses turn to wet tears.
Through all their years training together, Yuzuru had always given glowing praises to Javi’s character and skating skills. This held true even when their relationship has devolved to the point where they were barely speaking to each other. These testimonials made Javi uncomfortable because he had always felt that they were Yuzuru’s way of publicly apologizing to him for having to deal with Yuzuru’s toxic relationship with the media and his fans, for forcing him into a role of supporting character, for beating him in competitions, for what Javi had desperately wanted but Yuzuru could not give.
Now, Yuzuru was in his hotel room, asking if Javi could still love him. Javi frowned at Yuzuru, trying to gauge what he was doing. It was too deliberate, and Yuzuru always assessed situations before he committed to an action. “I’m engaged, Yuzu. I sent you an invite,” laying it out in case Yuzu had missed his mail.
Yuzuru nodded. “I know. I saw it,”’ he said.
“So you do know. Then why are you still asking me this? Why now?” Javi asked.
“Because now is the right time. I couldn’t ask before. And if I don’t ask now, it might be too late,” Yuzuru answered.
Javi blinked at Yuzuru. “Might be too late? Yuzu, it’s been three years.”
“I know. You’ve been gone three years. I missed you,” Yuzuru said.
“I missed you too,” Javi responded almost automatically, but also because he has. “But this is crazy, Yuzu. What is this? You had your fun playing figure skating champion and now it’s time to get your consolation prize?” Javi ran his hand through his hair in agitation. He was really trying to understand where Yuzuru is coming from, but it’s becoming a stretch.
“No, it’s not like that,” Yuzuru said, shaking his head.
”Then what is it? What were you expecting me to say?,” Javi asked, grasping for understanding. Or barring that, some patience.
“I didn’t expect anything. I just wanted to know, if it could be. If you could still love me.”
“Why are you asking me this now?” Javi could hear the frustration in his voice.
“I ask now because I will not skate anymore," Yuzuru explained patiently. "I got your invitation. I wanted to know. If you are truly gone."
Javi resented how calm Yuzuru looked when he himself was a riot of emotions inside. He doesn't have an answer. His mind can only come up with the same question over and over. Why are you asking me this now? Javi didn't even realize he repeated the question out loud until Yuzuru responded.
"I ask so I will have no regrets,” Yuzuru said, so softly Javi had to strain to hear.
Yuzuru’s reply coalesced the confusing emotions inside Javi to that of anger. A small part of him was surprised at his own reaction. He had thought he was done with this. An hour ago, he would have laughed had anyone asked if he still had feelings for Yuzuru. Apparently his former rinkmate can still push his buttons the way nobody else can. So Javi is Yuzuru’s regret? The one who got away? Yuzuru had known exactly what he was doing when he turned Javi down. He doesn’t get to check if there’s still something left in the box he had already refused and thrown away. Three fucking years later. Javi was so angry he couldn’t speak, didn't trust himself to speak. He is not some item on Yuzuru’s bucket list - check if Javi still loves you.
“Well, now you’ve asked,” Javi said some moments later when his throat finally unclenched enough to let him speak. Yuzuru remained quiet, calm. “I’m getting married in eight months. You don’t have to come,” he added nastily.
Yuzuru waited, but then nodded and stood up when Javi didn't say anything more. He bowed formally to Javi. “It would be good if you could forget I came tonight. I would like for us to remain friends. I will see you tomorrow at practice. I’m sorry to have bothered you,” Yuzuru said, voice still soft, looking down on the floor. He straightened, turned away from Javi, and walked to the door.
Javi had thought he was angry before but it seemed there was room for more. He saw Yuzuru’s retreating back and he just flared up. He reached the door before Yuzuru could fully open it and slammed it shut again. It’s bad enough he’s a bucket list item, but apparently he’s an unimportant bucket list item. He’s all riled up, visibly upset and Yuzu will just calmly go back to his room thinking okay, that’s done, what’s next on my list. Javi didn’t need this. He was okay. He was happy. Javi leaned on the door with the same hand he shut it with, keeping his back to Yuzuru. He didn’t trust himself not to wring Yuzuru’s pretty little neck.
“Please let me go,” Yuzuru said behind Javi, almost inaudibly.
“Really, Yuzu? You bring this up, then you just walk away? And we're just supposed to have fun at the rink tomorrow?” Javi asked incredulously, bitterly. Javi turned around, planning to lambast Yuzuru with a few choice words about inappropriate questions dredging up long buried issues but the angry words died on his lips.
Yuzuru was far from calm. His face was pale, soft mouth quivering, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “Please let me go. I need to go,” Yuzuru begged quietly.
“Ah, hell,” Javi said, his anger draining away as fast as it had come. “You’re crying.”
“I’m not crying, I’m not,” Yuzuru said shaking his head, even as the tears finally overflowed and ran down his cheeks.
With a soft curse and a sigh, Javi pulled Yuzuru into his arms. He felt Yuzuru’s knees buckle, and he caught him. Yuzuru was sobbing into his neck now. Javi half led, half carried Yuzuru back to the bed. He got into the bed, sat down with his back to the bed frame and pulled Yuzuru into his arms again. Yuzuru continued to sob like his heart was breaking. Javi sighed again and thought that was probably so, in painful concert with his own.
Javi didn’t think it odd that not even a minute after he was so mad at Yuzuru he wanted to smash his fist in the wall, he was now in bed comforting Yuzuru while he cried. This was just on par with their complex relationship that has fascinated the world for almost a decade. Yuzuru cried for a long time, hands curled into fists on Javi’s shirt, Javi’s hand stroking down Yuzuru’s back in ineffectual comfort. Javi started to worry about dehydration. When the sobs tapered off to be replaced by sniffles, Javi disentangled himself from Yuzuru, got some tissues from the bathroom, and a glass of water.
“Where is Pooh when you really need him?” Javi said, as Yuzuru blew his nose. Yuzuru gave him a bleary, watery smile, that was more grimace than actual mirth. Javi has never seen anyone be as beautiful crying as Yuzuru.
“I should go,” Yuzuru said, after taking a sip of the water, barely understandable through his clogged nose.
“Stay.”
Yuzuru shook his head.
“Yuzu, stay awhile,” Javi said firmly, resignedly. Javi took the glass from Yuzuru, set it on the bedside table, then went back to his previous position on the bed, leaning back against the frame, legs stretched out, and gathered Yuzuru in his arms again. Yuzuru didn't protest. Yuzuru half curled beside him, his head tucked under Javi’s chin, still occasionally sniffling.
“Why did you even come here, Yuzu?” Javi asked in the silence, one hand cradling Yuzuru’s nape.
“I wanted to ask.”
“I got that. But surely you didn’t expect me to say yes, of course, I still love you, and we’d live happily ever after?”
“I didn’t expect. But I had to know. What if yes, what if no. Better if I know,” said Yuzuru.
Javi supposed it made sense. Yuzuru had always been more straightforward than him. Goal oriented.
“But did you hope I’d say yes?” Javi asked.
“Yes,” said Yuzuru softly.
Javi closed his eyes, trying to shut out the word. “Now that you’ve asked, what will you do?”
“I didn’t mean for you to see me cry.”
Javi tightened his arms around Yuzuru. “I’ve seen you cry before, lots of times. You didn’t answer my question, Yuzu. What happens now?” Javi asked. He wasn’t sure why he was pushing this. Beautiful or not, he didn’t want to make Yuzuru start crying again.
Javi felt Yuzuru give a small shrug. “I be a better friend.”
“Ahh. So you’ll wish me well on my marriage?” Javi said.
“Yes,” Yuzuru whispered after a pause.
“And you’ll come to my wedding?” Javi still doesn’t know why he’s pushing this. His own chest is tightening.
The answer was longer in coming. “Maybe not,” Yuzuru said. “Will just send a gift.”
“And you’ll wish me well?”
“Yes.”
“That’s bullshit, Yuzu.”
“What?” Yuzuru said, leaning away to look at Javi in surprise. “I can wish you well. I will.”
“You’re just giving up then? You, Yuzuru Hanyu, are just giving up on what you want. Just like that?” Javi asked.
Yuzuru looked at him, and Javi could see the rioting emotions in his face, tears falling again. Yuzuru wiped them away, frustrated. “You’re not a gold medal, Javi. Medals don’t say no. I win them and they’re mine. I skate my best and I win. They don’t stop being mine. I don’t have to wish them well while somebody else wears what was mine.” Yuzuru paused, gasping for air through the tears.
Yuzuru had sat up completely by now, extricating himself from Javi’s arms, dabbing his eyes, and doing his best to stop crying with mixed success. “I’m going back to my room.”
“Your team will see you looking like that,” Javi said, referring to Yuzuru’s sorry state.
Yuzuru paused in his efforts to collect himself. “I can’t stay here,” Yuzuru said, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “I’m full of emotions and it’s not fair to dump this on you when you’ve already said no.” Yuzuru took a deep breath and visibly tried to calm himself.
Yuzuru padded to the bathroom, and Javi heard water running on the sink. Yuzuru came out face still red in some places but no longer visibly distressed. Javi thought he looked beautiful.
“I’m sorry if I ruined your evening but I had to ask,” Yuzuru said. “Your happiness is important to me, Javi. I will wish you well.” Yuzuru put one hand on his chest, as if massaging pain away.
Javi stood up and gathered Yuzuru into a hug. It seemed all he did this evening was hold Yuzuru. He wondered who was comforting whom.
“Will you be okay?” Javi asked.
He felt Yuzuru nod against him. “I will see you in practice tomorrow. I promise I’ll be better then. I won’t be a problem,” Yuzuru said against his neck.
Yuzuru finally stepped back, away from Javi’s embrace. “Bye, bye, Javi,” Yuzuru said, with a bad attempt at a smile. Javi let him go.
Javi stretched out on the bed and was silent a long time, forehead creased in a frown. His shirt was soaked with Yuzuru’s tears, and Javi can smell the scent of Yuzuru on himself.
“The problem, Yuzu, was that after winning me, you never claimed me,” Javi said to the empty room.