Chapter Text
I.
“Things would have turned out better if she had lived. My mother, I mean. She was always so full of light, and joy, and absolute wonder. As it is, she died a year ago, and when I lost her, I lost sight of anything that may have led me someplace happier.
Her death was the dividing mark in my life: Before and after. Everything was before and after. And though it’s a bleak thing to admit, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who made me feel loved the way she did, and I doubt I ever will. Everything came simply alive in her company; she cast a charmed theatrical light about her so that to see anything through her eyes was to see it in brighter colors than ordinary.
My mother was the one who had introduced me to the world of figure skating. She had always loved the ice, and could land a few doubles herself, though she had never had plans to become a professional. Looking back on it, I’m sure she hadn’t planned on how much I would love skating. She had known my father wouldn’t have approved of the sport, and when she’d started paying for my lessons, she hid it from him for quite some time. Of course, he was furious when he found out, yelling and throwing things around.
But even he couldn’t stop me from skating. I loved the feeling of it, like I was flying. She knew that, and he did too. Sometimes, I think that may have been why he left us in the first place, fleeing town without a word, no letter, no call. No child support. He couldn’t stand the thought of having a son who enjoyed, in his opinion, such a “gay” sport. We never found out though, and I doubt I’ll ever know. I know she won’t.
Her death was my fault. Other people have always been far too quick to reassure me that it wasn’t; and yes, only a kid, who could have known, terrible accident, rotten luck, could have happened to anyone, it’s all perfectly true, and I don’t believe a word of it.
It happened in New York, April 10th, one year, two months, and two days ago. It makes me sick to even think of it. We’d been there to visit my childhood friend, Andy Barbour. We’d planned to meet for breakfast, but it had started raining, and the closest place to run to had been the Metropolitan Museum. We’d run into one of my rinkmates, Pippa, and her uncle, Welty, and we’d gotten distracted. Lost track of time. The two of us had been off on our own, Pippa and I, admiring and discussing one of her favorite paintings, “The Goldfinch”. Her uncle and my mother were off by the gift shop. We told them we’d meet them there, but the two of us kept seeing other things and walking off to see them.
I sometimes wonder what would have happened if we just had gone to meet up with them when we told them we would. If the bomb still would have killed the two of them. If it would have killed all four of us. If the two of us would have still been left orphaned. But I’ll never know.
It was my fault they died. It was my fault Pippa was distracted. And I know I’ll never forgive myself for it. Maybe that’s why I can’t bring myself to go back to skating. Not now. I can’t face my coach, Hobart Blackwell, without bursting into tears. He’d been married to Welty, and I always feel terribly guilty whenever I see pictures of the two of them around his house. He’s always quick to reassure me that it was never my fault, but I can’t believe him.”
I looked up to my therapist, who quite honestly just looked shocked, and a bit sickened by my story. Almost like he couldn’t believe it.
“Theodore…” He started, but I quickly cut him off.
“I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have dumped all of that on you at once,” I murmured this, unable to make eye contact with him. I’d been having trouble with that as well, ever since my mother’s death.
I’d been going to therapy for about a month now, but this had been the first time I’d ever told him so much. Before, it’d all been bits and pieces, never the whole story. Now, I just regretted telling him anything at all.
“No, it’s quite alright. You don’t have to apologize, that’s what I’m here for. To help you with these things,” he paused for a moment, as if trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say to me, “to help you… to move on.”
I don’t want to move on. I don’t want to forget her. I can’t. The thoughts ran through my brain quickly. I didn’t say any of that though, simply shaking my head. “I… I don’t feel so well,” Was all I muttered out, “may I use the restroom?”
I bolted out as soon as he nodded, veering straight out of the office doors, past the restroom, and out into the hot, humid, Vegas air.
I’d been living here with my dad for a few months now. Turned out, he hadn’t dropped off the face of the earth. Actually, he hadn’t moved too far away from my mother’s apartment. It’d shocked me, at first when he showed up, his new girlfriend next to him. “Xandra”. I was always certain that wasn’t her real name, but I could never ask. She was nice enough, honestly, when she was around. Which was almost never. Same with my dad. I spent more nights at my coach’s house than my own. It was fine though, he was never the best company, and I was pretty sure he was drunk or high most of the time he was around me.
Pippa had since moved out of Hobie’s house. She’d been living with her uncle since her mom’s death when she was a little kid, but now that he was… gone, she’d had to move in with her aunt all the way in Kansas, and had been training at a rink down there for a few months. I was just happy whenever I could see her on her visits to see Hobie.
All that talk about my mother… and skating… it made me feel a little nostalgic. Even now, as much as I hated myself for it, I missed the ice. I missed the flying feeling. But I could never bring myself to lace up my skates. It all just made me think far too much of her. It made me feel almost like I would be… dishonoring her by skating again.
I knew that wasn’t what she’d think though. I knew she’d want me to keep skating, for her. But I… couldn’t do it.
“I’m sorry mom,” I murmured, slowing down my pace a bit, looking up at the sunset. The beautiful oranges and yellows and reds. I wondered if she could hear me, all the way down here. I hoped she would. I hoped she’d forgive me.
II.
As much as I felt guilty seeing Hobie, my dinners at his place were always nice.
Almost every single Friday, without fail, I ate dinner with Hobie. We mostly only had each other, and even though he was my coach, he was almost like a father figure to me. He'd scouted me out when I was 7, and honestly, he was one of the only positive male role models in my life.
The dinners were never fancy or anything, tonight's was just a simple grilled cheese sandwich, but it was always just lovely to have. With our shared losses, having each other was probably one of the only things that kept me going at the time.
"Do you think you'll be coming back to skate soon, Theo?" His question snapped me out of my thoughts, and I coughed a bit, "The Grand Prix is coming up soon, and I know how much you loved it last year."
The previous year I'd come in fourth. It was to be expected, with all the other amazing skaters competing. Still, coming in fourth... it had been a huge achievement for me. That had been my last competition since I'd quit. My mother had died a few months before then, and I just completely broke down after it was all over. I'd tried skating at nationals, but I had another breakdown on the ice, and Hobie let me take a break after that.
"I'm... not sure." I murmured this, staring down at my food. I wanted to say no. I probably wouldn't skate, honestly. But I didn't want to tell him that.
"Why don't you just try coming to the rink tomorrow, eh? Just... see how it feels. You haven't been in a few weeks, and everyone misses you." He offered this to me.
I finally looked up to him, my eyes flicking over his kind face, before finally meeting his warm eyes for the first time in months. I slowly nodded, biting the inside of my cheek, "Alright, I will. I'll be there Hobie." I'd show up. Skate around for an hour, maybe. Just to make him happy. Appease everyone. Show my face. Honestly, what was the worst that could happen? It's not like I had to do anything much, and I wouldn't be announcing my "grand" return.
It was just to make Hobie happy. That's what I told myself. I tried not to think about my mother would say, as I finished off my dinner.
~
Lacing up my skates for the first time in a while honestly felt... really good. Stepping into the rink, feeling the coolness of the ice in the air, breathing in deeply, it was all really... nice.
I had my "Team USA" jacket on, my iPod in the jacket pocket, earbuds already in, Choral Fantasy playing quietly. I hesitated, probably for a bit too long, before taking off my guards, placing them on a bench, and stepping foot into the rink.
Gliding over the ice felt really nice, and I did a few basic turns, looking around. There hadn't been many people there, being pretty early into Saturday, but I recognized one or two of the people I'd trained with for so long. Melissa's Long red hair pulled up into a bun, her skating partner, Lucas, practicing a sit spin close by. Neither had seen me yet, which I was almost happy about.
I found myself subconsciously falling into a lazy re-enactment of my step sequence from the previous season, and before long, I was scrolling through my iPod, trying to find the song from my old short program.
As the music flooded my ears, I found a state of calm flowing over me, and I let my body begin skating the program, closing my eyes, and going purely from muscle memory. Gliding around the rink, spinning and jumping, it was all so familiar to me. Of course, I fumbled almost all of the jumps, but it didn't really matter. And, for a moment, my mother left my mind.
But then it was over, and everything came crashing back. My eyes slowly opened, and I saw that the rink had mainly cleared, Melissa and Lucas watching me from the side, large smiles on their faces, a few other skaters next to them. My face quickly flushed, and I slowly began skating over.
"Haven't seen you in a bit, Decker! Where have you been?" Lucas' rough voice called out to me, grinning. I caught a glance of their entwined hands.
I'd known the two of them almost as long as I'd been skating, after my parents and I had moved from New York to Vegas when I was seven, so I could skate under Hobie. They'd both been a few years older of me, and while I was still in juniors now, they were in seniors, but we'd bonded quickly. Lucas had been the one to teach me how to land my first quad toe loop, and Melissa had helped me for ages to land a double axel. They were the closest things to siblings I'd ever had, and I wouldn't trade them for the world.
"I've just been... taking a break. You know? Spending time with my father..." I murmured this, even though it was a complete lie. Actually, I hadn't seen my father in well over a week. But the two of them really didn't need to know that, "it's just been... hard."
"Yeah, I get that man." His voice lost the playful tone he'd previously had, getting a bit more serious. I knew he'd loved my mother almost as much as I had; she'd treated him like a son, and it hit him almost as hard as it'd hit me when we found out about her death. "Do you think you'll be comin' back for the Grand Prix? It's in a few months, but I think you could pull off putting together a routine in that time."
"Yeah, you coming back Theo?" Melissa chipped in, a gentle smile on her face, "Everyone's been wondering when you'll make your comeback, y'know? Ever since the nationals and all."
"Um... yeah. I don't really... know yet." Melissa had always been a bit too direct, but I knew she didn't mean anything bad by it. Honestly, I'd fucked up bad at nationals.
"I sure hope you will. Competition looks pretty good this year, but I know you could beat them all," Lucas said this confidently, "Raise expectations for whenever you enter seniors. You think that'll be next year?"
"I..." I honestly hadn't really thought about it all that much, but I didn't want to tell them that. Thankfully, Hobie was walking over, and I hoped he'd save me.
"Now come on, don't crowd the poor boy," Hobie said this kindly, and I shot him a thankful glance, "If he will be competing, he doesn't need the two of you freaking him out."
"Sorry coach!" The two of them said in unison, smiling widely.
"I need to have a word with him, alone. You two go back to practice, and I'll be out with him in a few minutes, alright?"
"Yep! See ya Theo," Lucas paused, hesitating before continuing, "I really do hope you come back. Competition isn't the same without you there." And with that, he and Melissa stepped back onto the ice, leaving me alone with Hobie.
Finally looking up at Hobie's face, I noticed for the first time the serious look on his face.
"Uh oh... I'm not in trouble, am I?" I asked this, trying to sound playful, but there was definitely a bit of nervousness in my voice.
"No, Theo, you aren't, it's just..." Hobie sighed, "I think it'd be better to talk to you about this in private. Can we talk in my office?"
"Oh! Um... yeah! Yeah, of course." I nodded quickly, my heart dropping as he turned, and began walking.
III.
"Boris... Pavlikovsky?" I wasn't sure I'd heard him right, "Why on earth would he want to come all the way to America?"
Boris Pavlikovsky was a pretty well known Russian Juniors figure skater. He'd beat me at my last Grand Prix, taking silver. As far as I knew, he'd also taken gold at the Russian Nationals, gold at Worlds, and Bronze at Worlds, but I was unsure if he'd won anything else. At 15 years old, he was one of the only skaters who could land a triple axel, and I was certain within a few years, he'd be a skating legend. He was... amazing, honestly. We'd spoken a few times, but we weren't really friends. More like... friendly competitors. Honestly, I was certain he probably didn't remember me. Actually, if he did, it'd probably be because of the... incident. Not my skating.
"I've known his coach for... longer than I've been coaching you, and we honestly think it'll be beneficial. For the both of you!" Hobie paused, before continuing, "It'd only be until the Grand Prix is over, of course. He has a close friend in the women's Junior division down here, Kylie Hutchins? Pippa knows her, but I'm unsure if you ever met?," I shook my head, and he nodded, continuing, "That makes sense. And Boris... well... he's... his coach says he's been having a lot of trouble finding motivation recently. He's been depressed. We thought... maybe the two of you could help each other."
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, my mind racing, "Hobie... I want to be nice, and I don't really know his..." I paused, trying to find the right words, "his situation, but I'm almost certain it is completely different from mine."
"I won't say you're wrong, Theo," Hobie murmured this after a bit of a pause, "But even if you have different situations, we still believe the two of you may be able to help each other. His coach says you two seem very similar... and, well, he honestly thinks Pavlikovsky could learn a thing or two from you."
Learn..? "But he beat me. On multiple occasions. I doubt I could teach him anything,"
Hobie chuckled a little, shaking his head, "That might be true, Theo. But you never know," He looked as if he was thinking for a bit, before continuing, "I won't force you to skate this season, Theo. And I won't force you to skate with him. But I really do think it'd help... even if just a bit," Hobie's voice got a bit genteler, almost like a parent's, "Pavlikovsky... he can be a bit much sometimes. I know this, more than anyone. I've visited and seen him more times than I can count. But his skating, it's almost magical. It reminds me a lot of yours. He'll probably be coming, even if you don't skate this season, Theo. So, I won't force you to skate for the Grand Prix, but can I please ask for you to just... meet with him? Skate together, just once. See how it goes. And if you don't like him, I promise I won't make you talk to him ever again. How's that sound?"
I hesitated for a bit, before nodding, "Alright... okay. Just once... I can do that."
"And... Theo. One more thing..." Hobie almost looked as if he didn't want to finish, but pressed on, "Please, don't think your mother would disapprove or dislike you for continuing to skate. I know... I know how you feel about it being her sport... but..." He hesitated, "I had known her for a long time... and I know she'd want you to make it your own."
I tried to force myself to swallow a lump quickly growing in my throat, nodding a bit, "Alright... Thank you... Hobie," I could feel my voice crack, tears pooling in my eyes.
"Hey, c'mere kid," Hobie stood, holding his arms out, and I rushed over into his warm embrace.
"I'm sorry," I hiccuped, burying my face into his chest, "I just... I miss her so much. I don't know what to do anymore."
"I know, Theo, I know," Hobie murmured, rubbing my back soothingly, "It'll be alright, I promise it will. You can get through this, we can get through it together."
"Thank you..." I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop the flow of tears, slowly pulling away and wiping at my face with my wrists, "'M sorry... I'm sorry..."
"It's alright Theo, I promise," His voice was soft, and it soothed me a bit as I nodded.
"Alright... Okay... Thank you Hobie. Really..." I trailed off, trying to find a way to change the subject, biting my inner cheek hard, "Do... do you know when he'll be here? Pavlikovsky, I mean..."
"Oh... I believe they arrive in a week." He seemed a little caught off guard by the question, but composed himself, "Their flight leaves in six days, so they should be here next Saturday, at the latest. We were going to meet up for breakfast on Sunday," He paused, before offering, "you can come if you'd like."
"I might as well... if we'll be skating together for a few months, yeah?"
"Yeah! I'll tell them you're coming, then?"
"Yeah. Yes. I'll be there..." I hesitated for a moment, before asking, "Can you... drive me there? I don't know if my dad will."
"Of course Theo, anytime," He offered me a soft smile, "that's all I needed to talk to you about... I'm sorry for stressing you out, Theo."
"It's... it's okay Hobie. It helped. Really." And it had, a bit. I felt almost like a weight had been lifted off my chest, "Thank you."
"Always." Hobie nodded to me, smiling to me as I walked out his office door.
IV.
Sunday came much quicker than it should have. For the first time in a while, I had spent quite a bit of time at the rink, skating, and even practicing some of my jumps. It was honestly really... nice. And after that talk with Hobie, I didn't feel so awful about skating anymore. Still, I could feel the thoughts of my mother weighing me down, and I couldn't land my quad loop as well anymore, usually under-rotating, or just flat out falling.
The knock at my door came much earlier than I had expected, Hobie's voice calling out to me. I quickly came down the stairs, trying to tug on my shirt, before opening the door for him. He laughed when he saw me, before trying to smooth my hair down a bit.
"Sorry," I murmured sheepishly, looking down at my rumpled jeans and messily thrown on t-shirt, "you can probably tell I, uh, I woke up a little late."
"It's alright, we have time," He smiled gently. Thanking him quickly, I ran back up the stairs, to my bathroom, trying to comb down my hair and brush my teeth as quickly as humanly possible. I didn't really want to be late to meet the Russian nationals champion, and make a bad first impression on him, especially not if we'd probably be spending so much time together for the next few months.
"I think I'm ready?" It was more of a question than a statement, and I tried to list off everything I'd done to get ready in my head while I tied my converse.
"Let's go then," He smiled warmly, "it's just at a little diner down the street, within walking distance from my place. It shouldn't take too long to get there, I know how much you love to be on time, so don't worry about that too much."
"Thanks," I smiled, standing back up, and grabbing my phone, shoving it in my back pocket, before walking out the door with him.
The drive was short, and before I knew it, we were at the diner. A local one, on the outskirts of Vegas, just like Hobie had said it was. It was pretty small, but thankfully it wasn't very crowded.
Stepping inside, I could see Hobie looking around, before seeming to spot them. Following him, I spotted a lanky teen, along with a tanned man, who looked a few years younger than Hobie. The teen, who I assumed to be Boris, was pale, and very thin, with curly dark hair falling into his eyes, his nails painted a shiny black, and seemingly bitten down as far as they could be. He was wearing a black t-shirt, with big, gothic letters saying "NEVER SUMMER", with black leather bracelets tied around his wrists. He didn't really seem to notice us at first, staring at his phone, seemingly typing something, but his coach definitely did, standing to meet Hobie, embracing him with a huge smile.
Finally, he looked up, and I met his dark brown eyes anxiously. The first thing he said, however, was, "You look like Harry Potter. With the glasses, yes?" His accent was thick, but it was nice at the same time.
"Oh... well his are, um, rounder, and..." I trailed off, shaking my head, stepping a bit closer, "I'm Theo Decker. You're Boris, right?" I offered my hand out to him.
"Oh, yes, formalities. I'm Boris Pavlikovsky, pleasure to meet you, Potter." He shook my hand firmly, grinning widely.
"It's... it's Decker, not Potter," I murmured this awkwardly.
"Just a nickname, yes? I won't use it if you do not like it."
"Well, I mean, I guess you can. Yeah. You can, if you want," A nickname couldn't hurt. It just made me feel a little bit closer to him already.
"Well then, it's a pleasure to meet you, Potter," He smiled, scooting over in the booth, offering for me to sit there.
"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Pavlikovsky," I offered my own small smile, sliding in next to him.
"Oh, no need to be so polite!" He laughed a bit, "Just Boris is fine."
"Then it's nice to meet you, Boris." I smiled a little wider, feeling comfortable already. Maybe this season would actually be really nice, I thought to myself as the two of us watched the coaches speak, grinning and laughing with each other happily. I'd only just met him, but he was already acting like we were the best of friends. Maybe... maybe training with him wouldn't be so bad, if just for a few months.
At the very least, training for this Grand Prix would be very... interesting.