Chapter Text
There aren’t many forests in Kazakhstan.
Most of it is desert, grass, shrubbery, and while there is nothing wrong with all of the above, Otabek sometimes wishes he had more material experience with the outdoors, because it was a little embarrassing when he was the only person to leave a finger up when somebody proclaimed they “never have I ever” ate dirt after falling out of a tree, or gotten stuck up one, or even climbed one. Just something regarding the trees.
His only tree moment was also the last time he went on a family trip. Two weeks after that, he was set to leave for Russia, and his suitcase was already zipped tight and bursting at the seams with boyish excitement. Only the essentials lay out of it: his skates, shoes, and maybe two light jackets. Ever the precocious child, even before he had to commit, Otabek was already learning how to live his life out of a suitcase.
But he wasn’t doing that on a clear April day, hours away from any rink or airport. He wasn’t worried about whether he brought enough pairs of socks or rolls of tape for a long term stay, or if that was even what he should call it because he really was just leaving his parents’ nest nearly a decade early. Instead, apropos of nothing, his parents woke him up early one day and drove themselves out to the middle of nowhere, and Otabek did not complain one bit.
When he tells Leo about the day trip and other unremarkable things he did before leaving, he makes sure to emphasize how little he complained, and how accommodating he was, ever the reliable narrator. He makes sure to mention how long ago it was, but he doesn’t talk about the details. He doesn’t mention the long squeeze his mother gave his hand when she helped him out of the car, nor how she ignored his questions.
He talks about the way the trees stole his breath and how dizzying it felt to stare way up, but not about how his father took extra care to kneel to his height and explain each tree’s vital role in the ecosystem. Otabek took more detail to the (what at the time seemed) treacherous trails and steep rocks but elaborated less on how he fell down that steep rock and how his parents, with only him to tend to, said little but exchanged many looks. How his father hoisted him up on his shoulders for a while after, even though he was a growing boy, and growing boys don’t have much time left to sit on their fathers’ shoulders, especially not this one.
He didn’t talk about all that, and he certainly didn’t think about it when he flew over Yellowstone, or Forillon, or Shorsky. And his heart doesn’t pinch when he remembers the day ending, his parents’ giving each other one long look, and it is interrupted by a call concerning details about Otabek’s first big flight, alone. How breathing city air no longer felt right again, and it’s never quite been the same, he doesn’t say any of that.
Instead, he mentions a small magnet they bought at the gift shop, and when he finally, finally returns home, he will find it on the refrigerator, and something will break.