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There was a certain point, after Tommy started skating, where he didn’t do much other than exactly that. The grueling hours started early and ended late; day after day, slowly tearing Tommy’s childhood away from him without him even knowing.
It wasn’t even until two years into his career as one of the youngest and most rapidly successful figure skaters in the country when he actually was asked anything about his childhood. And he had no answer. It wasn’t even overly invasive or proding as it could have been– they asked him about his hobbies . What in the world did this kid, who skates better than some of the best pros in the industry, do in his spare time?
And he couldn’t answer.
He froze in front of the camera, a pleasant smile plastered across his face, and froze. It felt like the temperature of the room plummeted even lower than the rink. His heart was beating as fast as it would after a performance; and all that he was faced with was a question.
He could lie. Easily he could. The words ‘Skating! It feels like I was made for it!’ were on the tip of his tongue. It was simple and his coach couldn’t mind it too much, it made him seem dedicated, happy with what he was doing in the moment. But he couldn’t. The words are sickly sweet and false, leaving something rotting in his stomach. So he said the first thing he could think of.
“I biked a lot when I was younger.” Tommy smiled, pretending for a moment he knows what it feels like to have pedals beneath his feet and a helmet on his head. “It was a lot of fun
And the interviewer smiled, accepting the answer and immediately rambling about how fit of a child he must have been before directing a question to Tommy’s coach. And the interview fades off into one of the other dozens he’s done in his life.
It’s years later, laid across Wilbur and Shelby’s sofa and with Shelby’s cat, Star, curled up and purring on his chest, that he thinks about that interview for the first time since it happened. Not for any particular reason, in fact, he actively tries his hardest to forget most of the interviews he sat through back then. The feeling of his coach sitting over his shoulder, waiting for Tommy to slip up even in the slightest so he can use it against him during practice in the future, isn’t something Tommy looks back on particularly fondly.
And yet he can’t help but be grateful that it’s here, in one of the places Tommy feels the most comfortable, that he remembers. And thinks that maybe now that he is here, and happy, and unafraid to ask for things that may make him happier, he could have that simple, unattainable thing he never got when he was young.
Wilbur’s out at the moment, having lost against Shelby in a valiant rock-paper-scissors battle to decide who has to leave the house and get their coffee (and hot chocolate for Tommy). So she sits in her favorite armchair with the soft pink blanket right next to the sofa and scrolls on her phone. And she’s open and inviting and one of the sweetest people Tommy’s ever met in his life.
“Hey, Shelby?” He asks, quiet so if she really didn’t want to she doesn’t have to reply.
“Hey, Tommy?” She replies, looking up from her phone and giving him her full attention. And Tommy smiles, because how could she ever not.
“D’you know how to ride a bike?”
Shelby blinks, caught off guard by the out of the blue question. Tommy scratches behind Star’s ears, ignoring his spiking heart rate.
“Yeah?” She shifts on the armchair. Tommy pets under Star’s chin. “Yeah, I learned when I was like, five or something. Why?”
He could brush her off. Shrug and mutter something about how it doesn’t matter. Because it doesn’t, not really. Knowing how to bike isn’t something he needed too much as a kid. The town he lives in is small enough where he could walk just about anywhere he wanted. He didn’t need to bike; and by the time he was thirteen his coach had swooped into his life and he was focused enough on pleasing someone who wanted to help him that something as small as biking didn’t matter.
But this is Shelby. Who he’s known for a year at maximum and who has never once looked at him with anything but kindness. (Because Shelby cares about him. Because when his team isn’t around, Shelby is the first he goes to. Because she has the softest cardigans that she lets him wear whenever. Because she smells like the almond milk and honey candle she got once because Tommy said he liked it and she makes sure to light whenever he’s around. Because he trusts Shelby and if that isn’t something terrifying and elating all in one then what is it.)
“I– uh– I never learned how.” And he waits for her reply and doesn’t tense because he trusts her.
“Really?” She asks, and there’s not a shred of judgement when she says it. “I mean it’s fine obviously– if you don’t know how, I mean. Like James didn’t learn how to until he was twenty or something. I bought him a bike for his birthday and stole his car keys for a week to teach him.” She giggles, and Tommy lets himself laugh along with her.
“Could you teach me?” He asks, excited because if Shelby could teach James Marriot how to ride a bike then she could teach anyone.
And when Shelby smiles wide and opens her phone and tells Tommy she’s making Wilbur buy him a bike, he’s excited.
—
Wilbur comes home with cold hot chocolate and three bicycles.
He brings the drinks in first, rushing from the garage to place the tray on the coffee table before ruffling Tommy’s hair with the widest grin possible and asking Shelby to help him with the bike. Tommy comes too, because Star jumped off his chest a while ago, and gets to watch his friends heft three bikes off the (brand new) bike rack of the car because Wilbur decided he couldn’t just get Tommy a bike but he and Shelby also needed ones to match. And he pulls three helmets from the trunk and sets of elbow and knee pads because Wilbur can’t do anything half-assed.
“Was this really necessary, Wil?” Tommy asks, walking over to the bright red bike and ringing the bell on the handlebar.
“My Tommy doesn’t know how to ride a bike and I–”
“We!” Shelby interrupts.
“– we get to teach him?” Wilbur exclaims, incredulous. “Not a chance in hell I’m not going all out!” He finishes, plopping an electric blue bicycle helmet on Tommy’s head that is far too big.
Tommy giggles and adjusts the helmet so it doesn’t cover his eyes, clicking the straps in place while Wil and Shelby start rolling the trio of bikes out of the garage and onto the pavement outside. “What about the drinks?” Tommy calls, knowing full well Wilbur stopped caring about them the second Shelby texted him.
“Fuck the drinks, I’m teaching you how to bike!” Wilbur calls before walking back over to Tommy and kneeling in front of him, smiling fondly at the still far too big helmet on the kid’s head. That, combined with the fact that Tommy is practically drowning in Wil’s own #2 jersey has him nearly cooing at how fucking adorable his kid is.
He refrains, for both Tommy’s sake and his own because he can feel Shelby’s delighted evil grin behind him and it’s only 10am he can’t be melting into a pile of goo this early in the morning. So he decidedly doesn’t pull Tommy into a bone crushing hug and simply adjusts the helmet and stands, grabbing hold of Tommy’s hand before they walk over to the bikes and a grinning Shelby Shubble.
“So!” Wilbur says, grabbing the side of the bike and nodding for Tommy to get on. “The little man wants to learn to ride a bike!”
“I’m not little!” Tommy glares, adjusting his grip on the handlebars and gauging with how much force he could hit the bike into Wilbur’s shin.
“The littlest! Just a lad!” Shelby chimes in. And Tommy sighs because he could never hit Shelby in the shins with his bike.
“Very true, Shelby– now! The most important thing about riding a bike is gonna be balance-”
It doesn’t take Wilbur very long to go over the basics, they’re simple enough that Tommy’s very limited knowledge of biking is suddenly expanded, and he’s not entirely sure what he could have been afraid of in the first place. Shelby gets on one of the other bikes, a pretty creme with a bell and a basket attached to the front, and shows him how to ride around. Fluidly moving in circles around the road before gliding back up to where the boys stand and getting off with a flourish and a curtsy.
It doesn’t look hard, in fact, it looks so laughably easy that he’s sure he could master it in seconds and without any of the help he’s been given. But that sounds marginally less fun than what’s happening right now so he follows every instruction Wilbur and Shelby give to the t. And he smiles when they do and laughs when Wilbur starts ringing the bell every time Shelby starts to speak. He pretends to ignore Shelby when he pulls her phone out and takes pictures and smiles, wide and genuine, when she calls out to him.
And he’s excited as all hell when he’s finally perched on his bike, elbow and knee pads and helmet securely in place, Wilbur resting a hand on Tommy’s shoulder and holding the back of the seat with the other, and Shelby further down the street recording the whole thing and looking like a proud mother about to see her son’s first steps.
“You ready?” Wilbur leans down over Tommy’s shoulder before he lets him go, breath tickling his skin and words meaning far more than they seem. Because Wilbur isn’t stupid. He knows how important something as small as this meant to Tommy. He knows and he’s proud and he’s beyond happy that he’s the one who gets to show Tommy this simple thing.
And Tommy gets the joy, the delight of whispering “Yes,” to Wil. He gets to see one of his favorite people light up and smile because he knows how much that one word means. He knows and Tommy loves him for it.
And Wilbur lets go of the bike with a little shove. And Tommy is pushing down on the pedals like his life depends on it. And Shelby is calling his name and laughing. And Tommy later, with a mug of reheated cocoa in his hands and Shelby and Wilbur on either side of him on the sofa, is happy.