Chapter Text
“I just wanted to tell you that I have another race in a few weeks,” he says, a little embarrassed. “I’m going to the World Junior Speed Skating Championships.” He shrugs and smiles. “I mean, the British never win, but if I get a good enough time score there, I might qualify for the Youth Winter Olympics.”
I spring forward from the wall. “Holy shit.”
…
“So would you like to?” he asks.
“Like to what?” I ask.
“Would you like to come? To watch? I’m allowed to take someone, and usually it's a parent, but, you know…”
And without thinking, without wondering whether my parents would say yes, without even worrying about Charlie-
“Yeah,” I say. “Okay.”
__________
It's early in the morning and Michael and I are on a train, watching cities speed by as the world begins to wake up. He has barely said anything all morning. The sun has just started to peek over the horizon, turning the sky a million different shades of orange and gold and pink. I’m usually not up early enough to see the sunrise and if I am, I’m too tired to appreciate it. The only reason I’m not bitching about being up at the asscrack of dawn is because I am here with Michael on what is probably the most important day of his life. I would have assumed Michael was a nervous talker but I don't think he has said more than 200 words from the moment he picked me up from my house this morning until now, a few hours later, sitting across from each other heading west to London. He’s stoic and focused which is endearing and terrifying all at the same time.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it” I say.
“It is” Michael replies. His gaze is fixed out the window, sun is reflecting off his glasses so I can barely see his eyes from where I am sitting across from him. I take a sip of the diet lemonade he bought me at the station this morning. He told me it was my ‘reward for putting up with him’. I told him he is too hard on himself.
“You’re going to do great today.” As I say it, I realize that it probably won't be as helpful as it seemed in my head. Michael nods, not even turning his head to look at me.
“I really hope so” he sighs like hes trying to convince himself that its true.
For the first time ever, the World Junior Speed Skating Championships are in London, so we didn’t have to travel far to get there. I doubt my parents would have let me come along if it were being held somewhere like Italy or Poland. Until this point, I’d never traveled and spent the night anywhere without my parents. Neither has Michael. It's just me and him against the world for the weekend. Its daunting but if there was anyone in the world that I would want to spend a weekend in a big city with, it would be Michael.
I open my mouth to offer more generic advice but close it again because I doubt anything I say will be helpful to him. I have to do something though. I don’t like this Michael. I much more enjoy Michael Holden when he is bubbly and carefree to when he is drowning in anxiety and on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown, only one thread remaining until he finally snaps and falls apart. The last and only time I have ever seen Michael like this was on the roof of Higgs. Seeing him tense and afraid like this sort of makes me feel like I need to throw up.
I weigh the options in my brain on a venn diagram of calming things my new therapist has been droning on and on about for the past three weeks and things that Michael enjoys. Then, I get up and join him on his side of the compartment. This causes him to finally turn to look at me. He goes to say something but I speak before he has the chance.
“Are you more of a Bon Iver or a Catfish and the Bottleman kind of guy?” I ask him.
“Um, I don't know. Why?”
“Because” I say, reaching into my coat pocket, “we’re going to listen to some music. Your mind is out in space right now. You need to relax a bit and be here. And, its very important for me as your girlfriend to know your taste in late 2000’s indie.” I offer him one side of my earbuds before he has the chance to decline. He reluctantly takes it and places it in his ear. “You know what, just for you, we can listen to some shitty Disney music.”
“I wouldn't make you do that.” Michael teases, “play Catfish and the Bottleman.” I press play on The Balcony (which is arguably their best album) and rest my head against Michael’s shoulder. He snakes an arm around my shoulder and holds me close. This is new for us but not awkward. Neither of us are experienced in how to be in a relationship but in my humble opinion, I think we are doing pretty well. We’re going slow, taking things in stride as we travel from awkward first kisses to learning how to love and be loved in return. Its a journey that neither of us are perfect at, but Michael is one of the only people in the world who makes me want to try.
“Are you doing alright?” I don’t know why I ask this since the answer is clear, but at least now the conversation is open. Usually, Michael is the one soothing me, so now that the roles are reversed I feel a bit intimidated, but I also feel like I owe it to him to give him the reassurance that he is constantly giving me. I want to make him feel better.
“I’m fine,” Michael replies. It does not take a rocket scientist to know that his answer is complete and utter bullshit. There are many words that I could use to describe Michael Holden in this moment and ‘fine’ would absolutely not be one of them.
Instead of pointing out the fact that he is lying to not only me but himself, I decide to take a different angle.
“Are you sad that your mum isn’t going to come to the race?” Again, as soon as I say this I realize that it definitely isn't the lighthearted conversation starter that I anticipate it to be.
Michael sets his gaze straight ahead and thinks for a moment, eyes glazing over, carefully choosing his words. I have without a doubt hit a sore spot. He sucks in a breath and mumbles a reply.
“This isn’t the first race of mine that she’s missed and it won’t be the last. She’s busy. I mean, being a single mum is hard enough but especially when you have a son that drains your bank account with all sorts of skating expenses.” He laughs but its sarcastic and cold. “I can’t be mad because she does it all for me and she’ll be there to celebrate with me when I’m home. And I have you. I would rather be here with you than with anyone else in the world.”
Okay. That wasn’t as heavy or grim as it could have been. I can work with that.
“I hope that this is the first of many skating competitions that we get to take on together. I have actually started to quite enjoy speedskating.”
“No you do not” Michael scoffs. “I know that you have no interest in speedskating. But, that makes it all the more meaningful when you come to my races to support me despite your distaste.”
“I do have interest in speedskating!” I retort. “I like looking at your ass in your suit! That has to count for something!”
And then, like a gift sent directly from the Gods themselves, Michael laughs.
Michael has the kind of laugh that fills his entire chest. A laugh that takes over his face, crinkles his eyes, and radiates out of him like the sun. The kind of laugh that you want to listen to forever.
“You’re ridiculous, Tori Spring.” He turns to kiss the top of my head, lips still upturned into a smile.
“I do like speedskating,” I mumble into the soft fabric of his jumper. “I mean, I like you and I like supporting you, so that means I like speedskating.”
Michael places his hand over his chest, coupled with a melodramatic gasp. “You like me?”
“Unfortunately.”
Michael laughs again which causes me to laugh too. The world continues to speed by in a blur of green fields and grayish cities. Anxiety is still burrowed into every atom of Michael’s being, but we’re laughing and we’re together. The looming race to follow takes the sideline and for a moment it's just me and Michael. Somewhere, deep inside of my chest, something reminiscent of fire sparks, and I feel happy.