Chapter Text
(May 23, 2019 / Makuhari, Chiba Prefecture, Japan / Rehearsal for Fantasy on Ice)
It's been so long.
Come on, Zhenya. You're being dramatic again. It hasn't been that long since you've seen him.
Two months. That was hardly any time at all.
Then why did it feel like a lifetime had passed? Why was it when that when I closed my eyes, I couldn't see his face anymore? Why was it that I couldn't remember what his voice sounded like?
I knew I could go on the internet, anytime, if I really wanted to. Even right here, in the dressing room of the Makuhari arena... even right now I could--he was just a Twitter search away. If I did, I knew I would find him instantly, shared and re-shared by his hundreds of thousands of fans. If I did, I knew I'd immediately see some image of his smiling face, with his eyes crinkled around the corners and his small, scrunched up nose (no doubt commented with uwu after uwu). I'd hear his voice speaking in any number of languages--Spanish, Korean, Russian, even. He tried himself at little phrases all the time, to everyone's delight, but it never compared to how he spoke in Japanese, precise and fluid all at the same time, just like how he skated. Yes, his voice was inarguably the best when he spoke Japanese. But I liked it when he spoke English. Because that's how he spoke to me.
I blinked. My thoughts were wandering again. I glanced around the empty dressing room, briefly, memories from last year's show flickering through my head. I quickly concentrated on my own image in the mirror in front of me instead.
No, I wouldn't go on the internet to find him. Because I was NOT a fangirl anymore, and I wouldn't join their ranks just because I was somehow in the same position as them now, desperate for a reminder that he wasn't a hallucination, a figment of my imagination, just someone--something--I had just dreamed up.
Because... I hadn't dreamed all of that. Or... had I? I didn't know anymore. Maybe I had.
Because all I knew now was that I'd barely heard from Yuzuru Hanyu in two long months.
Two months. The words echoed in my head, and my eyes closed as a weird pang twisted through my stomach. If someone had asked me to, I wouldn't have been able to properly describe that pang. Was it anger? Sadness? Resentment? Confusion? Maybe it was confusion. Because, why? Why had he just... disappeared like that? I thought... I thought... he said...
I can't be anything else but in love with you.
My eyes flew open as my stomach turned over in a massive somersault. Just for a second, I almost heard his voice in my head. No.
I scolded my reflection again. Don't think about it, Zhenya. Don't remember those days right now.
I would not be that pathetic, letting my emotions get the better of me. I wouldn't let myself be so attached to hastily-said words from a boy who was even more dramatic than I was. I would not let myself blindly believe in something that might not even be true anymore.
But half of my brain was still stuck, trying to remember, somehow, that moment, those words, that voice. Because whenever I heard that voice, his voice, it sounded--it felt--real. He had meant it, then, hadn't he? Didn't that mean something?
Maybe he had just gotten busy, like I had, tied up with commercial opportunities, focused on his goals for the off-season. After all, there were time differences between us, and family that demanded attention, and things like that, too. It was all reasonable.
No. It wasn't. It was completely unreasonable that he'd left me on Read multiple times--best cases with a quick reply days later. It wasn't right that he hadn't acknowledged all the things I knew he had to have seen, the things he had basically suggested that I do. It wasn't fair that he'd left me to try to figure out where we stood or how I should act.
I'd said I needed him to be there for me. And he hadn't.
Well--he had, back then, back when we'd last seen each other. I'd believed him, then. He had seemed sincere, then. I thought we had had a breakthrough. I thought we were starting over, with a plan. But what had our plan been, exactly? And why had he disappeared? Like he had just forgotten about me?
I took a deep breath, dropping my eyeliner back into my makeup bag.
Well, I hadn't really needed him, anyway. I was not so pathetic as to need a guy, after all. I was stronger than that. I lifted my chin, narrowing my eyes to summon my confidence. Yes. I had had a great summer so far, with several successful tours, making fun memories with other friends. I wasn't where I'd been last year, struggling with so many changes and conflicts, needing someone by my side in the dark days of doubt. I was strong now--I reminded myself of my positive self-talk--strong and independent and beautiful.
And then I tilted my head, checking my work in the mirror. I slowly chewed on my lip. I probably didn't need to look this good for rehearsal. I hadn't needed to show up so early, but I hadn't seen everyone that would be here today for a long time now, and the salty sea air from my run this morning had made my curls completely impossible to manage, so I'd just arrived... ah... an hour early. To do my hair. Just so it would be... manageable, you know.
And maybe... because... if there was anyone else who would show up early to a practice, it was Yuzuru Hanyu. And maybe, we'd just happen to run into each other and--
Okay, I wanted to see him. A lot. Yes, part of me was upset with him, wanting to get some answers. But the bigger part of me just wanted to lay my eyes on him. Everything would be okay once we saw each other again, right?
I sighed again. What was this battle in my heart? Back and forth, up and down, all the time. What a mess I was. I didn't even have a plan of what I'd do or say when I saw him.
I looked at myself in the mirror again with dissatisfaction. No, I shouldn't look like this. I tore off my crop top, casting it aside to change into a long sleeve, high-necked athletic top instead. I knew how Yuzu felt about me in a crop top, and Yuzu knew I knew. The last thing I wanted was to look like I was trying too hard. And this hair. He liked it down, didn't he? So up it went, into a messy bun, my hands working fast to wrap the elastic band around my thick mane, as if I had a sixth sense that I was running out of time.
I was.
Footsteps in the hallway.
I stood up so fast my hairbrush clattered to the floor, my heart racing. And then I chided myself again, willing away the blush that had already warmed my cheeks. What was I thinking? It couldn't be him. I had to stop with these fantasies that I'd meet him backstage here and we'd have some private reunion after all this time. Something was definitely wrong between us, after all. Even if he did show up early, there was no way he would be actually looking for me, here, in the dressing room, as if--
My stomach dropped to the floor. The door was opening, right in front of me. There hadn't even been a knock. But it wasn't one of the other girls, it couldn't be. It was opening too slowly, too hesitantly, for it to be someone who belonged here.
And then, there he was.
He was real.
Standing in the doorway of the women's dressing room, exactly where he shouldn't be but exactly where I'd been praying he would--was Yuzuru Hanyu, two-time Olympic champion, two-time World champion, the ice prince, the heartthrob of Japan, and the person who had stolen too many of my thoughts and feelings for who knows how long now.
It's been so long.
My heart felt like it was collapsing inside my body as I took him in. Dressed in all black training gear, short sleeves showing off his veined arms, he should have looked familiar--it was a sight I had seen a hundred times, a sight I had gotten used to, back at Cricket--but now, after our separation, nothing about him felt familiar. His hair was shorter than the last time I'd seen him, his jaw more angular, his figure a little more hardened somehow. He had changed, hadn't he?
And then, he spoke, and suddenly I couldn't breathe.
"Zhenya."
His voice. Another uncontrollable pang. The way he said my name. That was familiar. I had just forgotten. I had forgotten... how it made me melt. I had forgotten, too, how his eyes looked, especially when they were looking at me. And right now, they were looking straight at me, into me, into my soul. I had forgotten... how it was the most unnerving, wonderful, amazing thing--just like... just like...
And that was when I couldn't stop the flashback anymore.
Saitama.
(To be continued)