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When you lock eyes with your soulmate, the world around you comes into colour for the first time.
Shoma honestly couldn't give less of a shit about this whole seeing colour when you see your soulmate nonsense. He had more important things to worry about, like landing his jumps, and not pissing off Mihoko, and making sure Itsuki didn't overload on sugar and become a pain in his ass, and a whole manner of other things that didn't involve soulmates. His world was black and white and he couldn't care less about it. His coaches helped him with his costumes because they could see them properly and he couldn't, so he just let them dress him because it was much less effort than arguing.
He'd had his head down most of the time at competitions and only looked at those he shared a podium with. And that was because it would be much more awkward to avoid looking at them than to suck it up and give them a confused smile and some poor words of English.
"First place and winner of the gold medal, from Japan, Shoma Uno!"
Shoma stepped out in front of the sparse crowd in Croatia and raised his arms, looking every bit like the awkward puppy he'd heard his senpais call him at Nationals. After bowing to the few people waving Japanese flags, he climbed up to the top step of the podium and tucked his arms behind his back.
"Second and winner of the silver medal, from the United States of America, Nathan Chen!"
A few cheers from the ever-enthusiastic Americans echoed around the nearly empty arena as Nathan skated out to the middle. He didn't even bother to bow and instead just climbed straight up next to Shoma, looking up at the older who didn't look back at him. June-Hyoung climbed up beside them, as tall as Shoma was even as the Korean was on the bottom step and the Japanese on the top, and Shoma was just glad that he could avoid looking at the other two to get his medal.
It was a square thing. Shoma smiled when he got it but, internally, was definitely judging the shape of the medal. They were meant to be circles, weren't they?!
If I have to have a piece of shit square, at least my piece of shit square is gold Shoma thought to himself as he got the flowers, and then had to quickly adjust the flowers in his arms to be able to shake the hands of yet more officials. He could practically feel Nathan's eyes burning into the side of his head as the Japanese national anthem played.
(Shoma didn't have the confidence to sing along. Maybe if he was sharing the podium with another Japanese person, he might have done)
Once all the officials and children with trays had left, it was finally time for photographers to say random things in English to Shoma that he didn't have a snowball's chance in Hell of understanding. Thankfully, Nathan and June just climbed up to his step straight away so he didn't have to ask what to do. He found himself shuffling a little closer to Nathan, since June towered so much over him, and the Korean patted his back lightly before they all climbed down. Shoma took a shortcut so that he could get in front of the photographers at the right time and slot himself neatly between the two of them for one more quick photo. With the pairs coming straight after them, Shoma turned his back on the American and followed the Korean off the ice.
The three of them had just thrown down their blade guards so it was a bit of a scramble for them to pick their own up while also juggling flowers and trying not to fall on each other while they put them on. Shoma reached for what he thought was his second one when gentle fingers brushed his own.
"Hey, sorry, I thought that one was mine. Hard to tell with them all being black and white."
Shoma looked up and time stood still. He'd met Yuzuru Hanyu at Nationals the season before, and he'd heard him go on and on and on about what happened when your world turned colourful, what it was like, how amazing it was, blah blah blah, until Shoma had been ready to turn him into yakiniku.
But nothing, absolutely nothing, that Yuzuru had said, could really have prepared Shoma for what happened.
The first colour he saw was deep brown. Around Nathan's pupils were deep brown irises that were dark enough that they would have blended in with his pupils if he wasn't paying attention. From Nathan's eyes, his skin glowed with a tan colour and his white lips turned pink. His black curls didn't change but Shoma barely noticed; he was transfixed by his eyes.
The same eyes that had finally brought colour into his life.
"Wow," Nathan whispered softly as his eyes searched Shoma's face. "So... Um... we..."
Shoma blinked at him, utterly confused by the English but trying to understand what he could.
"Soulmate?" he said quietly, silently glad that the word in Japanese was a Katakana word that Nathan could also understand. The American nodded, a bit dumbstruck, and Shoma's heart ached when he spoke.
"So... Um... I'm straight. But I guess we can be friends?"
Shoma understood "straight" and "friends", and it was enough for him. His smile dropped and his face fell but he nodded, making a small smile blossom across Nathan's face.
"Cool! We can exchange phone numbers," the American held out his mobile phone for Shoma to enter his details into it. "Then we can chat, yeah? Get to know you better and become besties."
Nathan Chen was not having a sexuality crisis.
He was fifteen years old and knew that he was straight.
He was sixteen years old, winning all his junior grand prix events and the final, and he knew that he was straight.
He was seventeen when he became a senior. He was seventeen when he made a statement when he won two silver medals on the grand prix series, including at the final, where he only lost to the reigning Olympic Champion. He was seventeen when he beat him, and, more importantly, had his arm around Shoma, on the Four Continents podium. He was seventeen and, as he held Shoma's waist, he knew that he was straight.
He was eighteen when he won the Grand Prix Final and had Shoma standing beside him. The older's hand, on the small of his back, felt like it had been made by heaven to fit there. Nathan kept trying to catch his eyes but Shoma seemed to look through him, as challenged by English as always, instead of looking at him.
The feeling that Nathan had missed his shot made his heart so heavy and aching that his practices went to shit. He couldn't focus on anything. As the Olympics got closer, his stomach twisted itself into knots of terror and agony. He was both excited and terrified to see Shoma again.
"Sho..." Nathan trailed off as he saw the Japanese man look past him to where Yuzuru was waiting to get on the ice for their group practice session. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and skated away from him. Of course Shoma would care about Yuzuru and not him. He'd pushed him away and now he had to deal with the painful consequences.
The consequences of making three mistakes in the short program that set him down in seventeenth place weren't nearly as painful as seeing Shoma ignore him. He ached to call out to him, reach for him, talk to him, just ask how he was doing, but, with media from every nation jumping down his throat, he couldn't. So he watched from afar instead and smiled, watching as he saw his soulmate rise up to get the silver medal. Shoma's eyes sparkled with delight and, even with all the colours in the world available to him, Nathan was just glad that he could see the ones on Shoma's face.
Shoma's face was painted with light pink across his cheeks and lips. His deep eyes were a gorgeous brown that gave Nathan a soft warm inside him His skin was soft and pale, and Nathan wished to reach out and caress his cheeks. Dark curls, much like his own, spilt from the top of Shoma's head and made him giggle as they fell into the Japanese man's eyes.
Nathan Chen was eighteen years old when he won his first World title and shared the podium again with Shoma. He was eighteen when he held the Japanese man's hand, supporting him as he put on his blade guards. And he was eighteen years old when, in the empty locker room, Shoma cupped his chin and stroked Nathan's cheekbone with his thumb.
"Please," Nathan whispered before he pulled Shoma down into a kiss.
Shoma tasted surprisingly sweet and his lips weren't nearly as chapped as he thought. Their lips moved against each other as Shoma settled on Nathan's lap. The younger's hand slid up into his curls as Shoma held his shoulders. He had no idea how long they stayed there, making out in the locker room, but they finally had to part for oxygen.
Shoma dug in his bag for his phone and got up a translation app.
Soulmates?
Nathan cupped Shoma's cheek again and swiped his thumb over the older's cheek. He nodded, giving him a kiss.
"Soulmates."
"Do you think we'll be soulmates in our next lifetime?" Nathan asked, head resting on Shoma's lap as they curled up with Emma and Toro to watch a movie. Shoma ran his fingers through the other's curls as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Nathan's forehead.
"Silly." His English had come on leaps and bounds since training with Stephane and dating Nathan was certainly helping him with it. "You asked me that in our last lifetime."