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World Figure Skating Championships 2015. Shanghai.
Yuzu’s tears surprised Javi.
At first, he hadn’t been sure if Yuzu really was crying. He had had sweat pouring down his face, after all.
But upon closer inspection, the usual steel resolution in Yuzu’s eyes had disappeared.
Something fundamental had broken, and Yuzu was crying.
Even more surprising than Yuzu’s tears, Javi discovered, was his own reaction to Yuzu’s tears.
His arms enveloped Yuzu of their own accord. His hands came up to cup Yuzu’s face, stroking the surprisingly smooth skin under his thumbs. His heart skipped several beats.
Yuzu was so, so pretty.
More importantly, he was obviously trying desperately to be happy for Javi, despite his own devastation.
Javi was melting, and he was drowning in the tide of Yuzu’s emotions, completely helpless against Yuzu’s tears.
He wondered if it was really Yuzu’s tears he was responding to, or Yuzu’s breaking heart, or the precious glimpse of Yuzu’s fundamentally kind yet fragile soul. Yuzu was more transparent to Javi in these rare seconds than Javi had ever witnessed before.
Either way, Javi was being pulled in by the inevitable tide, and he didn’t want to resist.
Javi hoped that Yuzu would never realize that his own tears could be used as weapon, if he was ever so inclined.
***
World Figure Skating Championships 2016. Boston.
Javi was the newly crowned two-time world champion, but he was only a man.
He was not a fairytale prince -- and he was certainly not Yuzuru Hanyu’s prince.
In fact, he was extremely frustrated, and was beginning to feel a bit angry.
Earlier on the podium, Javi had wrapped his arms around Yuzu as the other approached, now something of a tradition between them. But Yuzu’s body had been distant beneath his touch, his smile frozen on his face, his eyes opaque.
Javi couldn’t feel Yuzu. He didn’t know where his friend had gone.
Then, the gala event had had Javi reeling a bit. He had tried several times to seek Yuzu out, only to repeatedly find empty space where a kindred soul had once been.
Javi had tried to be considerate of Yuzu’s feelings, but frankly, Yuzu wasn’t having it. He had shut him out.
Javi had his pride too. He knew he had earned his place at the top of the podium. Nobody could take that away from him, not even Yuzu.
He was a bit hurt, actually, that Yuzu couldn’t show happiness for him, even just a little bit. It was the least Yuzu could do, for all the times Javi had helped him up off the ice, dusted the snow off him, given him a shoulder to lean on, and swallowed his own self-pity when Yuzu ultimately came out on top, again.
And then, of course, there had been that.
Yuzu had been the only person who had ever been able to shake Javi’s faith in his...intimate preferences.
But Javi was tired of jumping through hoops to stay close to Yuzu.
With a reluctant wipe of his blades with his skateguards, Javi stepped off the ice, slowly walking away from the rink.
***
World Figure Skating Championships 2017. Helsinki.
“Am I an important person to you?” Yuzu asked him as they sat together backstage, waiting for the medal ceremony to start.
The medal ceremony that Javi wasn’t going to be a part of.
Yuzu wasn’t even looking at him—he was looking studiously at his skates, turning them back and forth, feeling the familiar worn edges.
Javi felt a surge of anger. It was all a bit late, wasn’t it?
But—as surely and tightly as Yuzu’s arms had enveloped his neck earlier, trying to convey all the apologies of a hell of a year, perhaps several years—Javi couldn’t deny the truth.
“Yes. Yes, you are Yuzu. You don’t need to ask.”
Silence.
“You know you are.” Javi muttered more quietly, to himself. Resignation.
Yuzu still appeared distracted by the curve of his blade. “I think I need a new sharpening,” he finally said softly, to the empty space in front of him.
Javi felt his annoyance peak again. It was typical, wasn’t it?
Contrary to popular belief, Javi had a limit to his gentleness. A temper.
The saying goes that the opposite of love is not hatred. It’s indifference. Javi had thought he loved Yuzu once. Whatever that meant. He had also…almost hated Yuzu. When Yuzu occasionally showed an inability to connect when it mattered. When Yuzu had been single-minded in his pursuit of winning.
Most of all, Javi was acutely disappointed in himself in missing the podium. He had to actively resist the urge to mentally turn Yuzu into a scapegoat. He was only human. Like any top competitor, Javi loved to win.
But for all of Javi’s complicated feelings towards Yuzu of late, he could never feel nothing towards Yuzu.
Seven years of training under the same roof, enduring all that they had together, was a very long time.
Did Javi have feelings for Yuzu? Yes, he had feelings. Many, many feelings.
Javi clapped a firm hand on Yuzu's back, not quite missing the lingering glance Yuzu threw him over his shoulder.
He stared at the closed curtain behind Yuzu.
After all, this was not some grand romance.
And not all love stories ended in happily ever after.
***
Winter Olympic Games 2018. Pyeongchang.
Yuzu was dizzy, crying on Javi’s shoulder, arms clinging around Javi’s neck. He felt such relief, as all the emotions, the hard work, culminated in this one Olympic moment. And now it was over, and he just wanted to collapse on the safest place in the world – Javi’s shoulder.
“Stay strong,” Javi told him, reassuring aura enveloping Yuzu’s soul like a blanket. The blanket felt a bit worn around the edges, frayed with something that felt like resignation and regret. But it was strong, and it would hold. Plus, it still kept Yuzu warm. He closed his eyes, savoring the already nostalgic texture and feel and scent of it.
Yuzu wished he could keep his head on Javi’s shoulder forever, and just allow the waves of reluctant comfort wash over him, soothing his fatigue. He was vaguely aware of the cameras rolling, and finally forced himself to lift his head up and wipe his eyes. He could still feel Javi’s eyes following his every little gesture.
How can I keep you? Yuzu thought desperately, wearily.
The answer was – he knew he couldn’t.
But…he would always have this.
He would always have their precious past.
He would always have this hard-earned present, immortalized in Olympic history.
And—looking into Javi’s warm brown eyes, finally softened just a bit—perhaps he would always have a small, small corner of Javi’s heart. Even if he could never have Javi’s future.
This was not a fairytale. It was Yuzu's life.
And he would continue to face it like a true champion, because he should.
He can.
And he will.