Chapter Text
Artificially cool air blew past Lan Zhan as he opened the heavy doors at the entrance of the rink, carrying with it the odor of sweat, the concessions stand, and something else that Lan Zhan could never identify but that smelled like coming home. Considering he often spent far more hours at the rink than at his actual house, it made sense. That first breath he took once inside, the air so distinct from the outdoors, always settled something inside of him.
“Lan Zhan!”
Well, it used to settle him. Now, the heat that rose up in response to that familiar call was inevitable. Uncomfortable, unwanted, even hated sometimes— but inevitable. It crept nudging fingers up his neck, warming the outer shells of his ears. Luckily, Lan Zhan had anticipated this, and he had prudently worn a grey turtleneck that hid most of the spreading rosy blush.
Wei Ying’s plastic guards clacked against the rubber floor tiles as he walked towards Lan Zhan, his long ponytail swinging cheerfully behind him. When he had first showed up to the Cloud Recesses Iceplex, Lan Zhan had thought that with his skates on, Wei Ying looked like a colt, just born and stumbling around on legs too long for his body. That was before Wei Ying had gotten on the ice.
“Good morning, Lan Zhan! I can’t believe we got here before you. That never happens! You are usually here so early.”
It had happened because Lan Zhan had purposefully started his warmup routine in his kitchen, eyes continuously darting to the clock as he stretched and waited until the last possible minute before driving to the rink. Lan Zhan didn’t like anticipating his face in a red flush, which was a frustratingly regular occurrence when he was around Wei Ying.
He had hoped that this way, Wei Ying would already be on the ice when he arrived. Foolish. He had no such luck.
Lan Zhan did not look at Wei Ying’s twinkling eyes as he marched silently to one of the many tables scattered throughout the rink’s lobby and dropped his suitcase. He did not return Wei Ying’s wide smile, carefree as he plopped himself down into one of the chairs next to Lan Zhan.
They were alone in the large space. Everyone else was already skating around the rink’s perimeter, warming up in preparation for jump class. Quickly, Lan Zhan opened his suitcase, pulled out his light blue headband, and drew it over his traitorously blushing ears. Another precaution he had learned to take.
“So pretty, Lan Zhan! Can I borrow it sometime? I wish I had a headband like that. Your uncle sure likes to keep this arena super cold. You know, I could sometimes skate in nothing but a t-shirt at the Yunmeng Rink?”
Lan Zhan was not thinking about Wei Ying’s lean arms, bare with a light dusting of hair raised from the wind Wei Ying created as he flew around the ice.
Unfortunately, Lan Zhan did not have to reach far for an image of Wei Ying’s arms, which were usually on full display during the off-ice conditioning classes that were a daily occurrence at the Lan Club’s summer training camp. He could easily recall the muscles in Wei Ying’s shoulders and back flexing as he executed a set of push-ups. The sweat that trickled down the side of Wei Ying’s neck and disappeared into the collar of his shirt.
His fingers tightened on the laces of his boots, jerking the nylon strings more roughly than usual. Lan Zhan despaired. What was happening to him?
At sixteen years old, Lan Zhan thought he understood himself— his mind and his body. Figure skating demanded control of both. Competition was as much a mental game as it was a physical challenge. So Lan Zhan had honed his strength and his focus, and they had never failed him. Until a few weeks ago when a pair of grey eyes and a loud laugh had captured his attention and never let it go.
Distracted, Lan Zhan didn’t see Wei Ying’s curious hand moving towards him until it was directly in front of him, reaching for the silver piece sewed into the soft wool of his headband. He flinched involuntarily. Wei Ying immediately pulled back with an airy chuckle and continued his chatter unabated, dispelling any awkwardness before it could even settle into place.
Lan Zhan didn’t like when other people tried to touch him. So why was he suddenly wishing he hadn’t reacted? Why was he picturing Wei Ying leaning across the table and touching his forehead, his bright smile just a little too close? Closing his eyes as if that would chase away the taunting image, Lan Zhan finished lacing up his boots without needing to look, the action familiar after years of practice.
His skates tied, Lan Zhan stood and walked to the set of glass double doors that separated the lobby from the arena. There was a vicious squeak as Wei Ying pushed his chair back, scrambling after him.
Managing to reach the doors at the same time as Lan Zhan, Wei Ying also grasped at the handle, his hand brushing across the back of Lan Zhan’s as he did.
Lan Zhan froze. His gaze arrested on their stacked hands. The coolness of the metal against his palm did nothing to prevent the heat from that light point of contact from climbing up his arm.
Furious at his body’s reaction, Lan Zhan tightened his grip on the handle and pulled it open with too much force, jerking his hand out from under Wei Ying’s and quickly brushing past the other boy with his chin lifted. He ignored the clench of his heart as in his peripheral vision, Wei Ying stumbled backwards to avoid a collision with the door. Ignored the desire to turn around and catch him. Lan Zhan was the one who needed steadying.
Removing his guards and drawing on his thin gloves, Lan Zhan stepped onto the ice, a few powerful strokes taking him away from the entrance. Cold air swept across his flushed cheeks, soothing him. He took a deep breath. Finally, Lan Zhan felt his usual posture return as he put distance between himself and Wei Ying.
As his tense shoulders relaxed, his shoulder blades drew back and his neck elongated. Automatically, Lan Zhan’s arms lifted as he rounded the curve at the far end of the arena, leaning into his crossovers and picking up speed. The initial burn faded as the muscles in his legs adjusted to the increase in pressure from the bend in his knees and hips.
After getting on the ice, Wei Ying had immediately hopped onto the side of the boards, forgoing a warmup altogether and sitting there joking with Nie Huaisang. Ridiculous. He would injure himself if he didn’t warmup properly before class. That didn’t stop several other skaters from joining them. Ridiculous. At least the ice was less crowded.
After Lan Zhan had finished a few laps, Lan Qiren clapped his mittened hands together, and there was a flurry of activity as everyone went to the center of the ice. They formed a loose half-circle around the coach. Lan Zhan stopped a few feet away from Lan Qiren, one hand settling behind his back as he awaited his uncle’s instructions. He was there to attend the class, but he also served as a demonstrator when his uncle required it.
“Good morning, students,” Lan Qiren began, his stern gaze sweeping over the skaters before him. “Today, we will be focusing on the lutz jump.”
He turned towards Jiang Cheng, who visibly swallowed and straightened. “Jiang Cheng, what is the most important part of the lutz take-off?”
“Maintaining the backwards outside edge, sir!” Jiang Cheng responded. Lan Qiren harrumphed, and Wei Ying, who was standing next to his brother, punched his shoulder proudly as Jiang Cheng exhaled in relief. After firing off several more questions until he was satisfied with the group’s understanding of the jump’s technique, Lan Qiren turned to Lan Zhan.
“The backwards outside edge of a choctaw is very similar to that of a proper lutz takeoff. We will start with an exercise that will help you become more comfortable with this edge. Lan Zhan, demonstrate a double lutz with a choctaw entrance.” Lan Zhan nodded.
Using a quick three-turn to get himself moving backwards, Lan Zhan then took several crossovers to gain speed before gliding on one foot towards the corner of the rink. He turned his shoulders and hips, curving into four deep choctaws, the ice crackling beneath his blades, before executing a double lutz. For a brief moment, Lan Zhan was spinning in the air, arms tucked into his chest, before he landed easily, his leg elegantly extended behind him.
There was scattered applause and a loud whoop that could only have come from Wei Ying as Lan Zhan skated back to his spot next to his uncle.
Lan Qiren stroked his goatee approvingly. “I hope you were all paying attention. Flawless technique. No wonder the triple is coming along so well, Lan Zhan.”
“Sir! Sir! I was paying attention to Lan Zhan. I can go next!”
Wei Ying was hopping up and down on his toe-picks, one hand waving frantically and one hand pushing aside Jiang Cheng, who was scowling and tugging angrily at his sleeve.
Lan Zhan narrowed his eyes at these antics. As if Wei Ying needed to try to draw attention to himself. As if his messy bangs didn’t somehow fall perfectly over his eyes, making everyone want to push them back. As if his smile wasn’t already so inviting. As if his eyes didn’t gleam with humor. As if—
Enough. Lan Zhan brought himself firmly back into the moment, mentally brushing aside those thoughts as though they were stubborn flakes of snow clinging to his gloves.
Despite Lan Qiren’s frown, Wei Ying wasn’t backing down. His eyes steadily met the coach’s until the older man gave his permission. Wei Ying shook off his brother, and Jiang Cheng crossed his arms, glaring down at his skates.
Rolling his shoulders back, Wei Ying pushed off, tugging on the ponytail of a giggling skater from the Jin Club as he passed near her. His trajectory brought him gliding towards Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan stiffened. He didn’t know what he was bracing himself for, but he still wasn’t prepared when Wei Ying winked directly at him.
Fervently thankful for his headband, Lan Zhan clenched his fist tighter where it lay at the small of his back. He breathed evenly, annoyed at the quickening of his heartbeat. It didn’t mean anything. Wei Ying flirted with everyone. Lan Zhan didn’t even want it to mean anything.
Then, Wei Ying was skating, and Lan Zhan stopped trying to argue with himself.
It didn’t matter if Wei Ying was performing his program, in a lesson with a coach, or just practicing by himself, he didn’t hold anything back. Every stroke was taken without restraint, every movement carried out to its fullest extent. Rarely precise or clean but done with such obvious feeling. The result was captivating.
Picking up speed, much more speed than Lan Zhan had, Wei Ying got so close to the boards that someone gasped out loud. Lan Zhan could see a grin peeking through the hair that whipped around Wei Ying’s face and caught his breath. It was just a quick intake of air, but his uncle was standing close enough to him that he turned briefly towards Lan Zhan before returning his critical gaze to Wei Ying.
“Showing off again. Flashy,” Lan Qiren grumbled, the lines in his forehead deepening.
Lan Zhan disagreed. Wei Ying was not a flash of light, someone that burned brightly before fading away without a trace. He was the glint of gold, enticing with every gesture and glance. Rare. Desirable.
Heading towards the corner, Wei Ying completed four choctaws and then a twizzle with both arms above his head before taking off into a huge double lutz that sent him flying through the air. He landed with enough speed leftover that he was able to easily add on a triple toe loop, turning the jump into a combination.
Cheers erupted before quieting down into enthusiastic claps when Lan Qiren sent a withering look at the students. After making his way back to the group, Wei Ying did not return to his place next to Jiang Cheng. Instead, he stopped next to Lan Zhan and swept into such an exaggerated curtsey that it prompted another round of applause.
“Wei Ying.” The irritation in Lan Qiren’s voice silenced the other skaters immediately. For a moment, the only sound was the whooshing of the massive air conditioning units overhead, perpetually cooling the arena. Rising out of his curtsey, Wei Ying faced Lan Qiren, somehow still undaunted.
“I did not ask for a twizzle. I did not ask for a double lutz-triple toe loop combination. This exercise was designed to improve your control over the backwards outside edge. Your choctaws were sloppy at best. Proper technique is the necessary foundation for any successful figure skater. You will not be able to simply muscle your way through a triple lutz. Listen to my directions if you want to remain at this training camp.”
Wei Ying did not look chastened in the slightest although he nodded in response to Lan Qiren’s words.
When the coach’s attention left him, Wei Ying turned eagerly towards Lan Zhan beside him. Sighing internally, Lan Zhan kept his eyes fixed on a reluctant Nie Huaisang, who was up next.
“What did you think of that entrance, Lan Zhan? Pretty difficult, huh?”
“Mn.”
Lan Zhan did not elaborate further, but Wei Ying didn’t seem to expect more of his answer, scratching at his nose thoughtfully before continuing. He could do this because the top of his index finger was poking through a large hole in his glove. Ridiculous.
“The key is getting a ton of speed beforehand so the twizzle doesn’t slow you down too much before the lutz. I know your uncle talks a lot about technique, but sometimes I feel like you just have to go for it. No thinking! You know what I mean, right? Just throw yourself into it and see what happens. You never know what you can do until you try!”
In fact, Lan Zhan did not know what he was talking about.
Yes, he understood that over time, a certain muscle memory for a technique developed. This came from extensive practice, from repeating the same sequence of motions over and over until they became second nature. But to skate without thinking? It didn’t make sense to Lan Zhan to attempt a new skill without proper preparation. Especially when the outcome of such actions could be dangerous. Bruises from the unforgiving ice or bleeding wounds from sharp blades.
His contemplation had caused the silence between them to stretch far past the appropriate time for a response, so Lan Zhan stayed quiet. Besides, Wei Ying had already moved on, making a chef’s kiss gesture to Wen Qing after she finished her turn and stifling a laugh when she stuck her middle finger up at him behind Lan Qiren’s back.
Lan Qiren led them into the next set of exercises, which had them all skating around the rink’s perimeter again and allowed Lan Zhan to escape Wei Ying’s distracting presence. Standing close to him, Lan Zhan was too aware of Wei Ying’s fidgeting, too busy fighting his curiosity about the scratches Wei Ying was drawing into the ice with his blades.
Once the class ended, Lan Zhan stayed behind while everyone else left the ice, pieces of their conversations echoing off the vaulted metal ceiling.
Gliding over to the boards, he opened the latch that provided access to the low benches installed on the side of the rink. From his perch there, he could look out across the expanse of ice before him, its once smooth surface cut up with evidence of the passage of their blades. The zamboni was rumbling in its garage. It would soon come out to wash the marks away.
He could also see through a wall of large, glass windows into the lobby of the arena. By then, many of the students had tugged off their skates and had started changing their clothes for the upcoming conditioning class. It started in fifteen minutes, so Lan Zhan should really be joining them in order to avoid being late.
Instead, he was hiding. From the noise, from the unavoidable proximity to the other skaters. Mostly from Wei Ying.
Reduced to hiding cowardly in the rink his family owned because of a boy. Lan Zhan felt shame curl alongside the despair already settled into the pit of his stomach. Where was his focus? Why was this happening to him? Looking through the windows again, he could at least acknowledged that he wasn’t the only one Wei Ying had affected.
He could see it in the admiring glances thrown Wei Ying’s way by the girls, in the way the boys pushed amongst themselves to get close to him. Right now, Wei Ying was talking with the girl from the Jin Club, the one whose ponytail he had tugged.
His expressive hands were gesturing animatedly as she hung on to his every word. Like before, Wei Ying was drawing a small crowd around him, and as it did, he seemed to grow somehow taller, thriving under their attention.
Yes, everybody wanted Wei Ying.
Lan Zhan knew this. The problem was that Lan Zhan didn’t usually want what his peers did. And he didn’t like it.
As a young child, he had sat on these very benches by the side of the rink for hours, mesmerized. So enthralled that he did not feel the cold, and he had to be reminded to tell his brother when his fingers started to turn blue. As soon as Lan Zhan was old enough, he had stepped on the ice, and that was it. His uncle had been pleased, his nephew taking to the family sport so naturally. He did not want to go outside and play with the others. He did not care for social media and its interpersonal intricacies.
His entire life, Lan Zhan had just wanted to skate. To be on the ice, to feel it curving and responding to the pressure of his blades. It had never bothered him what he had to miss because of the early mornings and the long days required of him. Homeschooling had been an easy choice. He could spend more time at the rink.
There was no sacrifice he wouldn’t make for his training, and thus far, it had served him well. His brother and his uncle were proud. His skills and strength improved continuously. Everything was going according to plan.
Yet as much as he hated it, Lan Zhan couldn’t deny that something had changed. He no longer only wanted one thing. Now, he couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to be wanted by Wei Ying. To feel Wei Ying’s touch. Deliberately, not just a quick brush. It would never happen, of course. The grey tones of Lan Zhan would never be interesting to one who shined as brightly as Wei Ying.
Still, as the rose blush spread once more over his ears, Lan Zhan wondered.