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Passion. That word, that emotion, has been a constant in Mark’s life for as long as he has been able to understand the concept of it. He’s always been “passionate”. Always put his all into anything he pursued. Ever the guy chasing his dreams. He’s received countless words of praise from the adults in his life for his seemingly never-ending thirst for improvement, while his peers only measured him with envious, sometimes pitiful stares. Mark never really understood why, until his coach called him in for a meeting to tell him that he would be going to the 2024 World Figure Skating Championships, representing Canada. In Canada.
He should’ve been overjoyed, bursting with excitement and ideas like his coach was. Or crying like he’d already won the whole damn thing, like his mom was when he told her about it. Instead, he simply felt void. Numb. The Worlds, in Montreal. Even just going and making it on the podium would be a lifetime achievement, and probably enough. Except Mark knew it wouldn’t be, because so far in his career, nothing really had been. He’d won his fair share of Gold medals at international competitions, had made the news as one of the youngest figure skaters in history to be so successful too. But his extended family, his colleagues, hell even his supposed celebrity “friends” were always after the next best thing. The next big win, the next broken record. And usually, Mark would be too! He loved figure skating after all. It was his passion. But right now, in the moments after everything really settled in for him, it felt like nothing but pressure.
Maybe that’s why Mark found himself making countless of mistakes on the ice today, to the point of his coach telling him to fuck off and take a break for the rest of the day, basically. He definitely said it in a much nicer way, but it made Mark feel like a failure nonetheless. As he walked out of the rink and into the crisp, cold air he checked his phone. Not even 11 A.M. "Awesome. Great. What the heck am I gonna do with my day?” he mumbled to himself, stuffing his phone into his pocket and strutting off in no particular direction. He had no clue what to do with his day now, not used to being told to take a day off that he wouldn’t be spending to relax his body and catch up on much needed sleep. Maybe he should go home and wallow in his misery, that would surely help him feel better! Unfortunately, walking through town at the speed only an insane, upset person could walk at while going over every little mistake he’d made in basically his entire career heavily impacted Mark’s ability to, you know, actually look at where he was going. So it should’ve come to no surprise when he practically ran over a random person simply trying to get out of a cab.
Thankfully, years and years of toppling over himself on the ice had ingrained some reflexes into Mark and he was able to catch himself on his hands. It might’ve helped that the person he pretty much bulldozed into softened his fall, too. “Holy fuck”, Mark mumbled, “I am So sorry, oh my god? I’m so sorry holy crap, are you okay?” He scrambled to help his poor victim up, stumbling pretty much over his entire vocabulary in an attempt to apologize. Of course, an already terrible day had to be made worse. “I’m fine, I’m okay, but uhh…”, the person, now standing and dusting themself off, was staring very intently and sourly at the contents of their handbag. In a puddle. A muddy one. “That’s - that’s a bit unfortunate.” It came out as a nervous chuckle, and Mark thought he was catching a bit of an accent too. British, maybe? He shook his head, immediately moving to pick up the scattered and wet items. “Again I am so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention and all and-” He paused, unintentionally and abruptly, when his fingers touched what looked suspiciously like a clothing item he was all too familiar with. Sparkly, soft, sheer and once probably white, it was starting to get muddier by the second. “Oh fuck.” The stranger cursed picking up the piece before Mark could, staring at it with a mix of frustration and fear. “That’s okay. That’ll be fine. I can get it cleaned, right?” They obviously weren’t asking Mark for a real answer, but he nodded nonetheless. There was a huge pang of guilt over seeing the desperation and hearing it too in the stranger’s face and voice. Thank fuck Mark didn’t fall on his head, because he had a bit of a lightbulb moment. “Hey, um, I can get it cleaned for you? My best friend’s family owns a dry cleaning business. And it’s like, the least I can do since I caused it and all? And again, I’m seriously so sorry-” “Yeah. Yes. Yes, please? That’d be really nice. ‘Cause I kind of need that costume very soon”, the person interrupted. Mark felt a wave of anxiety leave him. Thank god, he could at least fix this . “Okay, um, do you want to give it to me and I’ll uhhh give you my number? Or would you prefer we go there together? Also, I’m Mark, by the way.” Okay, that was a bit awkward. In his defense? Mark wasn’t used to talking to strangers in a casual setting. He could give interviews all day, but talking to someone on the street, someone he’d run over just a couple minutes prior? Excuse him for not being an awesome communicator! “Jeno”, the stranger, whose name Mark mulled over in his head for a second longer than necessary, offered their hand for a proper introduction, “and I think I’d prefer going together. I can’t really bear to let this thing out of my sight.” They chuckled, which eased Mark’s anxiety even further. Joking around was good, right? They weren’t about to jump him or anything, right?
“So…Where is this dry cleaning place you mentioned?” Jeno asked, taking Mark out of his never-ending whirlwind of thoughts about social interactions. “Right! Right. It’s a little far, but I could call us an uber and we could, um…” he trailed off, scanning his surroundings. They were in town, but there weren’t a lot of familiar places around and the ones that he knew were filled to the brim with people. Not really something he’d like to risk with a perfect stranger whose day he probably already ruined enough. “There’s a small café two streets away from here that’s supposed to be nice? We could wait there, and I genuinely think you owe me a coffee anyway.” Jeno was smiling at him in a way that Mark definitely felt was genuine. And cute. Okay, he should probably ruminate less, and answer more.
“Sure! Yeah, sure. That sounds good and, I mean, you’re right. A coffee and the dry cleaning is probably the least I could do.” Mark rubbed his head sheepishly and, after receiving a nod in response, fell into step next to Jeno on their way to said café.
Jeno was right, was one of the first thoughts Mark had when they arrived a good 15 minute walk later. It was a really nice place, with cozy industrial type decor and warm lighting. They were also playing some soft R&B music quietly in the background, which really added to the comfortable mood in Mark’s opinion. The two of them were greeted with a simple Hi and a friendly smile by the barista. “I think I’ll have a simple green tea. Maybe a pastry too, since it’s out of your pocket anyway?” Jeno spoke to him quietly and Mark couldn’t help but nod enthusiastically, leaning a bit closer to get a better look at the pastries the store had displayed. “The blueberry tarts look good, do you want one of those?” He asked, leaning back to receive confirmation from Jeno, but they were just wearing that cute smile from earlier again. “You know, I was just joking, but if you’re offering I’m not gonna say no.” There was a bit of a smile in their voice too and Mark suddenly felt like clearing his throat.
“Hey, what can I get you two?” Social interaction to the rescue? Mark couldn’t believe it.
“Hi, um, we’ll take a cup of green tea, two of these blueberry tarts and, uhh”, he quickly scanned their menu, although he had to squint a little to read the prices, “one small cappuccino? Yeah, that’ll be it”. The barista nodded in response, moving to put their order in and leaving to prepare their order after Mark tapped his card for payment. “You can take a seat, we’ll bring you your drinks when they’re done!” another barista told them, while placing the two blueberry tarts on the counter. Mark grabbed both plates, nodding at Jeno to signal that he’d be following their lead.
The two of them found a nice table in the back of the café, a little away from the buzz of the counter and complete with two comfortable armchairs, but without the arms. The term for those, if there was one, was evading Mark. After making themselves comfortable, one of the baristas already arrived with the drinks and, after giving a quick thank you, both of them fell into a bit of an awkward silence. Or maybe, perhaps, Mark just considered any silence to be awkward. So it just had to be broken. “So, I’ll order the uber now, for as soon as possible? If that’s okay with you?” He looked up from his phone that he’d pulled out and opened the uber app on, waiting for confirmation from Jeno, who gave him a small nod after taking a sip of their tea. Another moment of silence. Mark took a small sip of his coffee as well, noting in his head for future reference that the taste did not justify the price tag, but oh well. He lived and learned. Before he could go back to feeling awkward and panicking to come up with a topic of conversation, Jeno set down their cup and spoke. Savior. “So, I’ve never actually used an uber. Is it just a fancy type of taxi?” They asked, and maybe they weren’t as much of a savior anymore. Mark really did not like small talk and it must’ve shown on his face, because Jeno let out a small, seemingly involuntary laugh before hiding it behind their hand. “Sorry, sorry, that was just an attempt to fill the air. I take it you’re not one for casual polite conversation then?” Okay, that sounded a bit like an insult. It probably wasn’t though, because Mark was met with that comforting smile again. So, perhaps, he should answer honestly, rather than politely. “You got me there,” he laughed, “I really am not the best at small talk and stuff like that. In general I don’t think I’m good at talking, really, but I prefer it over silence, I guess?” Well, he thought to himself, wasn’t that the most coherent reply in the world’s history.
There was a thoughtful hum from Jeno’s side of the table, though. “I think I get what you mean. I also prefer meaningful conversations over empty, polite ones. So,” they readjusted in their seat and measured Mark with a curious look, “what had you in such a hurry earlier?” Oh wow, he wasn’t really expecting their conversation to go that way. He wasn’t expecting it to go any kind of way, to be entirely honest, but this was probably the least expected one. He leaned back in his chair, coffee in hand, and took a long sip from it. “You don’t have to reply, if it’s too personal. I get it, we’re complete strangers after all. You just so happened to run me over a tad.” Jeno was good at diffusing uncomfortable situations, Mark decided then and there. They read the room and gave him an out, but for some reason he didn’t feel the need to take it. “Um. I kind of fudged up at practice a lot today and my coach told me to take the whole day off. Which he hasn’t done like, ever, unless it’s the day after a good competition. Yuta simply doesn’t believe in a lot of rest, I think?” he laughed a little at his own joke, maybe to mask the nervous feeling creeping up in his throat. When he looked up, the figure skater was fully expecting a face of confusion or judgment. Fucking up practices and being told to take a day off weren’t exactly good things in the world of competitions after all, and judging by the item that had gotten them to sit together in a café, Jeno was no stranger to some sort of sports competition. Instead, the eyes he was met with were full of understanding. Not even pity, just a sort of ‘I see you, I feel you’ kind of thing. “I know how that feels, really.” Their tone was so sweet with empathy it made Mark feel a little bit high. “Makes a lot of sense now, why you were so deep in thought. But hey,” Jeno sat up in their armchair-without-arms and grabbed one of the blueberry tart plates, “I guess now you can drown your sorrows in sweets and caffeine?” It was such a lighthearted thing to say, but somehow it felt like Jeno was putting an end to their conversation.
So Mark simply smiled, nodded, and followed suit in eating his own blueberry tart. All the while noting the bittersweet aftertaste of the fruits.
A month full of training, failing, getting reprimanded, rinse repeat followed and Mark was kind of at his wit’s end. There was no fun, no energy, no escape in skating anymore. It was so filled with disappointment that he dreaded practice every day, which had never once happened before in all the 23 years of his life. As he was scrolling through his phone absentmindedly, just trying to keep his hands busy while on the bus into the city, he spotted a familiar eye-smile in a tiny, round profile picture, far down in his messages. Way too far down, if you asked him. When Jeno had asked him to exchange numbers on the way to the dry cleaner’s, he’d been ecstatic. Maybe that showed, because they put a hard stop to his excitement by explaining that it’s “just to stay in contact about the dry cleaning, in case they forget who I am or something”. Yeah, those were their words. Unfortunately. And even though Mark insisted they wouldn’t, going as far as to explain that the woman running it was his childhood best friend’s mom, in somewhat of an attempt to, he doesn’t really know, make it sting a little less that he’d only gotten a number because of Jeno’s worries, Jeno insisted. So, yeah. He got the cute person-with-the-awesome-smile’s number, but at what cost. Reading back on their conversations, Mark realizes he’d never even asked about the costume. “Holy crap, I’m stupid.” he mumbled to himself, considering all the different scenarios in which they did talk about Jeno’s costume and where they bonded and maybe met at the cafe again and – okay, he needed to stop. But thinking about the cafe again sparked an idea in his head. Once he was done with his chores, he’d go back there. That blueberry tart was definitely something capable of lifting his mood, if only a little.
Chores, aka getting a new pair of skates, took him much longer than expected, mostly because his head was just not in it. Mark was usually meticulous in choosing everything related to his career, his passion , but lately he just couldn’t be bothered. Unfortunately he’d been a loyal customer of this particular store since he was still a wobbly student that could barely skate in a straight line, so Johhny, who took over the shop from his mother when Mark was around the age of 18, simply would not let him get away with his half-hearted replies and opinions. The (not even much, Mark thought) older man insisted he had to be “entirely, 100%, perfectly and absolutely comfortable and delighted” about his new skates, “or else”. Thank fuck it didn’t come to the ‘or else’ part, Mark thought, because it was already only an hour and a half before the cafe’s closing time and after that whole ordeal, he really, really needed that blueberry tart.
As was to be expected, despite the cafe closing in, now, a whooping hour, it was pretty full and buzzing with conversation, and Mark was regretting his life choices just a little bit. For someone who regularly performed in front of thousands in a venue and even more thousands, if not millions, on TV at home, he really did not like being around people. Much to his chagrin they were also out of the blueberry tarts he specifically made the trip there for, and really, Mark was starting to believe the world was against him that day. Or maybe every day. Too awkward to simply say that he didn’t want anything since the only item he did want was sold out, Mark soon found himself in a corner of the cafe with an Iced Americano he didn’t even like, and a chocolate waffle that was much too sweet for his taste.
After he let out what was probably the fifth sigh in the path 30 seconds, someone suddenly sat down in the chair (the ones that are like armchairs, but without the arms, you remember?) opposite from his. “Um, can I help you–” Mark began asking in somewhat of a brusque tone (excuse him for not wanting strangers to witness his mental breakdown over blueberry tarts, skates and his entire career), but kind of choked on his own words when his brain caught up to his eyes. A chuckle. “I’m not entirely sure if you can help me , given that you’re sighing like an old lady.” Jeno laughed at their own joke, setting down a coffee cup of their own at Mark’s table. “Long time no see! I didn’t think you liked this cafe when we went here after you almost ruined my costume.” There was a genuinely happy and light tone to their voice when they spoke and Mark almost forgot that the courteous, normal, human thing to do would be to, ya know, engage in the conversation that was started. “Um, no, I did! I did like it, I mean. Well, more so their tarts, but those were sold out when I got here, so fuck me I guess, haha.” Yeah. Conversations weren’t his strong suit. Don’t say he didn’t warn you. Mark noticed the playful glint in Jeno’s eyes too little, too late. “Fuck you, huh? We’ve only met twice so far and neither time was planned, mind you.” Mark couldn’t help but laugh at that, and maybe at his own awkwardness too. “I would say I hope you’ve been well,” Jeno began and the smile on their face and in their eyes disappeared a bit, Mark noticed, “but judging by how much you’d been sighing before I even approached, I don’t think that’s the case.” Mark winced a bit at that. Was he really being so obvious about feeling down? “So, I know we’re only ‘guy who almost ruined my costume’ and ‘person who got their costume dry-cleaned and a blueberry tart on top’, but what’s on your mind, if you’d like to talk?” There was so much sincerity in their words that Mark felt like he’d choke on the air in the room any second. He wasn’t really used to people, let alone strangers, asking how he was or what weighed him down. Everyone simply assumed it was stress, or nerves, or lack of sleep. “It’s okay if you don’t, by the way. Want to talk, I mean.” Jeno offered a way out, yet again, just like they’d done last time that they found themselves in this cafe together. So much understanding, so much empathy, for a complete stranger. Mark felt like someone just punched him in the gut, but with genuine niceness. “It’s kind of the same issue as last time? I’m still fucking up at practice all the time, coach is absolutely livid with me most days and I simply cannot get my mistakes straightened out. Hell, I failed a double salchow the other day because my timing was way off, and that’s not even a jump my coach deems ‘worthy of being in my routine’, so you can imagine his reaction to that !” Mark let out a laugh that he really didn’t mean to make sound so bitter, but it simply was. It was a manifestation of his recent frustrations and he kind of hated how his eyes went hot with unshed tears of anger and, perhaps, a little bit of pain too. Failing was hard . Suddenly, he felt a hand on his and looked up to find Jeno squatting next to his chair. Their eyes, again, were so full of understanding that Mark almost wanted to cry. Almost. “Listen, Mark, I know what that’s like.” They squeezed his hand a little with theirs, giving Mark the most empathetic smile he’d probably ever seen. “You might have deduced it already, what with the costume and all, but I’m kind of in the same team as you! I do, actually, skate too. Probably nowhere near as well as you, but I know what you’re going through. At least I think I do.” Mark felt like rolling his eyes at that, because it was something he’d heard so much lately. ‘Oh, you’re in a slump, I know what that’s like!’ or ‘Oh don’t worry. Everyone feels like this once in a while!’. But there was something sincere to Jeno’s words, and so Mark kept his eye-roll to himself and instead forced half a smile at the sweet, sweet person still crouching next to him. “Say, where do you train?” Jeno asked, then, and Mark, world-famous figure skater Mark Lee who had no clue just who this person actually was or what their intentions really were, replied without a second thought nor hesitation. This dude would get kidnapped at his big age, for sure. “That’s actually pretty close to where I’m staying! Hey, I have an idea.” Jeno sat down in the no-arms-armchair again and for a second, Mark thought they looked a little bit like a cute dog that was scheming to steal your oh-so-precious blanket. “I found that skating together with someone who’s not familiar with what you do is insanely helpful! Maybe, and it’s totally okay and fine and understandable if you don’t, but maybe you’d want to try that?” They finally asked and Mark was just a little bit surprised. Okay, maybe he was very surprised. Insanely surprised, even. “Wait, you skate too?” Yep. Yeeaaahh. Mark Lee strikes again. So smart and coherent, that guy. “Wait. Wait, pause.” He scrambled to sit up straight and leaned over to Jeno in order to whisper-yell at them further. “Wait. You skate! So, like, you know who I am? Also, I like that idea, but like, I don’t know what my coach will say, because you know, my routine is supposed to be a secret, and all-” “Nooo, no, I know!” Jeno laughed, seemingly amused by the nervous ramblings of the figure skater, “Okay. Deep breath.” They leveled him with an expectant look and did, in fact, take a deep breath. Mark followed suit. “Yes, I do know who you are. No, I did not tell anyone, let alone the internet, that you almost ruined the costume for my next show, don’t worry.” Their smile was to die for, Mark thought, “And yes, I do also know that your routine is a secret! We wouldn’t practice that, we’d just skate freely and maybe try out new stuff that we both don’t usually have the chance to try.” He really should have thought it over in his head for a little bit longer, but Mark nodded in agreement almost immediately. He was impossibly eager to do this, for some reason entirely unknown to him. “We can go right now!” He said, already moving to down the rest of his, still not very good, Americano and honestly expecting Jeno to pull the reins and say no, actually, they’d like to properly schedule it because it was late and they had to get home and also spending soo much time with Mark wasn’t cool anddd he was overthinking. Very hard. Maybe it had just been an entirely empty offer, too. But something in Mark told him that, no, Jeno wouldn’t just offer up their time out of courtesy or as a nicety. And he was right, because Jeno downed the rest of their coffee too and stood up, clearing the dishes and looking at Mark expectantly when he didn’t follow them immediately. “Are you coming?” They asked, and Mark never moved faster.
The rink was a good ways away from the cafe, but thankfully Jeno had long legs and a quick pace and Mark was gay, so they made it there in probably five minutes less than the average duo would take. Jokes aside, they did both seem pretty eager to start with this. Or maybe, maybe it was just Mark. He had no clue. Once in the locker room, Mark got out his skates which he’d brought with him to Johhny’s shop earlier but then totally forgot about (Thankfully, Johnny remembered the make and model and they only had to do some minor adjustments for his new pair) and found himself feeling nervous. He was used to performing in front of pretty much anyone. Coach, family, rivals, strangers, haters, hell even ex-partners. But the thought of Jeno seeing him skate, and quite possibly, fail, made his hands shake a little. Still, he tightened his laces and took a quick, deep breath, looking up to see Jeno already standing there, skates on their feet and hands on their hips. “I sure hope you don’t take this much time putting them on before competitions.” they joked and Mark could only give them half a smile in response. Guess putting on his skates was another thing he’d been getting worse at, he thought. Before he could drown in more of his dark thoughts, he felt a hand on his arm dragging him towards the ice. “Stop ruminating, start skating, come on!” Jeno was all smiles, all warmth and Mark wasn’t too sure if it was his nerves or something else but he felt warm all over, especially where Jeno’s hand touches his arm. The warm feeling might have also crept onto his face a little, but he’ll attribute that to the cold.
Once on the ice, he could tell immediately that Jeno was as much of a seasoned skater as he himself was. Their movements were so fluid, so elegant, so pretty that Mark found himself absolutely mesmerized. It was thanks to years of reflexes and habits that they didn’t skate face-first into a barrier, too busy staring to take note of anything else. Jeno looked like they were born to be on the ice, something people had said about Mark countless times but he never actually believed. He always thought he was missing something when he watched his performances, even the ‘perfect’ ones, and that wasn’t his recent pessimism speaking. But Jeno, Jeno looked right at home.
“Are you gonna just stare, or will you come skate with me?” Jeno’s voice traveled over the ice then and Mark pushed himself off the barrier, shooting over to where the other person was skating in a small circle in no time. He stopped with ease, right in front of Jeno. Maybe a little too close for someone who was a stranger. Or an acquaintance. Mark would love to chalk the proximity up to a belated stop or something along those lines, but he found himself enjoying the wide eyes with which Jeno was gazing at him too much to explain away the truth – that he wanted to impress them with something so silly, wanted to feel their presence and study that handsome, angelic face. Before he could entertain those thoughts any more, Jeno cleared their throat and placed their hand on his back. “Go on, do some um. I don’t know. Warm-ups, jumps. Whatever you’d like.” They mumbled and if Mark didn’t know better, he’d think they were feeling flustered. He nodded in response and went off to do some warm-ups, once or twice (or maybe a couple more. He didn’t keep a count, okay?) peeking over at Jeno and admiring whatever they were up to, because they made even the most boring warm-up drill look amazing, in Mark’s opinion. “Okay!” He yelled over at some point, “I’m all good. Watch out!” That was as much warning as he’d give and as much as Jeno needed to put a bit more space between them, and immediately Mark began practicing easy jumps. Toe-loops were his favorite easy jumps, just for the fun factor, but he felt the need to make an impression. Did Jeno already tell him that they knew very well who he was? Yes. Had they probably seen his performances at least once or twice? Also yes. But he couldn’t possibly let them believe that he’d actually struggle with a double salchow! Which was kind of dumb. Because Mark was an overthinker, if you couldn’t tell, and as soon as he started moving into the preparation for the jump, he regretted it. What if he’d fail again? He did earlier, so why would it work now? What would Jeno think, then? Soon-to-be Canada representative Mark Lee can’t even do a comparatively easy jump? They’d probably feel embarrassed to have even shared the ice with him! “Okay, stop!” Jeno’s loud voice ripped him out of the flood of thoughts and worries. He did, stopped in his tracks, and soon Jeno was right in front of him. “I could practically hear you thinking from all the way across the ice.” They told him, hands on each side of their hips and measuring Mark with a gaze that he could only really call ‘analyzing’ in nature. “Okay, you know what? Just trust me for a second, alright. Follow my lead.” Jeno didn’t really give Mark a lot of time to even ask what to trust them with or what lead to follow, because the next thing he felt was a warm hand on his waist and now his brain simply took its leave. Short-circuited, if you will. He was following Jeno, who was leading him around the ice softly but steadily, but his thoughts were firmly placed on the feeling of their hand, how it tightened to signal a turn or softened when they were simply skating in a line, how warm it felt and how safe. How trustworthy. Mark, who was usually a control-freak to the highest degree, who had to have a hand in pretty much everything, was letting himself be led around his rink, and enjoying it too. If he wasn’t blushing earlier, he was entirely too certain that he was, now. Thankfully, Jeno was way too focused on guiding him and telling him to loosen up once in a while to notice that Mark was slowly but surely heating up all throughout, to the point he wondered whether the ice would melt beneath his cheeks if he were to faceplant randomly.
It didn’t take much longer for Mark to move back into a mindset of training, though, and soon Jeno and him were gliding across the ice, their hand still fast attached to his hip, practically turning the rink into a secret dance floor just for the two of them.
“So, you do this often then?” Mark asked after taking a sip from his water bottle while the two of them stopped for a break. Jeno only measures him with a smile and a short nod. Mark doesn’t question it further.
This became their routine for the next couple of weeks. Mark struggling at training, calling or texting Jeno for advice, and the two finding themselves skating late into the night, together. There was just something about Jeno leading him around the ice and noting the different points of tension that they noticed in his body that helped Mark reconnect with it in a way he’d never done before. Of course, his body was his temple , his weapon , or whatever else Yuta liked to call it that day, but at some point in his recent career Mark had lost that affinity, that connection to every muscle in his own body. And Jeno was helping him regain that. They might have also been helping Mark regain a sense of what it’s like to have a crush on someone. But that would be something Mark took with him to the grave. Because, surely, he couldn’t turn a recently gained training partner into a romantic interest. Surely he couldn’t, after all, Jeno was already spending most of their evenings helping him out, out of the kindness of their heart. Why would Mark bother them with anything about his feelings then, if all it could do was make things awkward between them? Because, well, that is what would happen, right? Mark thought long and hard about that, about the looks, the smiles, the touches at practice and the hugs afterwards that they had shared. And perhaps, or maybe it was simply his imagination running wild, perhaps they had gotten a bit…more? More glances that he’d caught, more smiles when he ‘wasn’t looking’ (because really, there hardly was a time where he wasn’t looking at them), and the touches…Maybe he was making it all up in his head, but he could’ve sworn that the last hug they shared after another one of their nightly practices lasted just a bit too long to be 100% friendly. Then again, what did he even know about Jeno? What if they didn’t even like guys. What if they didn’t like anyone, period? What if they actually had someone in their life already?
Before Mark could continue doom-thinking his way into certain misery, his phone rang with the familiar tune of Yuta’s specific ring tone (do not judge him, but it was Fuck Tha Police - N.W.A., which he’d thought to be hilarious as a teenager and then simply never changed). He hated when Yuta called him, because it was most often to discuss things he hated doing, like TV commercials or anything, really, that included promotional activities. “Hiiii Yutaaaa…what’s up?” He answered the phone, definitely not drenching his voice in sarcastic enthusiasm on purpose. Because who would do such a thing, right? “Good afternoon Mark. I don’t have time for your usual spiel, so listen up okay? Ears? Open them.” The urgency to Yuta’s voice (and excitement ?) had Mark immediately shooting up from his seat. Maybe he also started chewing on his fingernails. Don’t tell Jeno, they’d probably think it’s disgusting. Okay, not the time. “Are you listening?” Yuta’s impatient voice broke Mark from his never-ending train of thoughts, “Yes! Yes, I am, sorry coach.” “Okay, listen Mark. They’ve announced all the contestants from Team Canada for the championships. Today!” Oh. Ohhhh. Oh . Mark didn’t hear what else Yuta told him over the phone, something something about the news, an interview in the next couple of days, loads of PR. It all felt like white noise, being drowned out by a slurry of worries and dark, dark thoughts that Mark hadn’t had in his mind for at least some years now. He didn’t even fully notice when Yuta ended the call, nor did he realize he was googling his name and looking for articles before it was too late. Sure, there was praise. Sure, there were people genuinely happy and downright elated that he’d be representing the Asian-Canadian community. But man. Man, the amount of absolutely vile shit he was met with almost immediately after looking at some articles, looking at some social media posts. Mark didn’t know how long he spent just reading, reading and reporting if he felt it was bad enough, until he simply crawled into his bed and passed out for a dreamless night.
The comments and articles and social media bullshit was only the beginning. He had gone through several interviews now, some more serious than others, worked on several ads and even met with some of his ‘fans’. And every day, every single minute of every day was filled with thoughts going back to all the disgusting things he had read, had seen, had heard. The talk show hosts who had felt the need to make ‘jokes’ about how, surely, his parents had forced him to train as rigorously as he was known to do, since it was such an ‘Asian thing’ to have strict parents. The yelled insults and sometimes even slurs when he was met with crowds. The comments on all of his official account’s postings, no matter the topic or the occasion. The threats in his DMs, in ‘fan’ letters, anywhere and everywhere.
He was used to a general level of hatred, a decent level of racist remarks too. Yuta had always told him it comes with the field, the job. The jealousy of underachievers, he’d joke and pat Mark on the back reassuringly. But even his coach, who usually acted more like a rock for Mark to lean on when he couldn’t bear the hatred of the world anymore, turned into a shield that would cancel shows and ads and any event that was even slightly tied to someone who had made a vile comment or a stupid, tasteless joke . Even his coach was overwhelmed with the negative reception of Mark Lee representing Canada.
An ‘upside’, perhaps, to even Yuta deeming the hate too much, was that Mark could pretty much stay home as much as he liked if it wasn’t time for training or time for a serious PR schedule. The downside, however, was that Mark had become slightly obsessed with checking his DMs and reporting people who sent him hate. He even found himself typing out scathing replies here and there. A particularly bad message, one involving not only him but also his parents, almost broke his resolve of ‘ignore and block’, and the only thing that held him back from potentially ruining his life was a pop-up notification for a message from Jeno. Wow, that sounded silly and dramatic, but it was kind of true. Replying to a hater on his official Instagram would’ve surely done him no good. He opened Jeno’s message to find it was just a picture of seemingly new skates. They were pretty, yeah, but Mark felt an aching in his chest that he hadn’t felt since the year in high school where he sprained his ankle so bad he had to take a break from skating for an entire month. He realized, then, that he hadn’t actually seen Jeno since he was announced to be participating in the champs. They had texted, sure, and Jeno had sent him one or the other picture of their impossibly sweet smiling face, but they hadn’t actually talked or met up. God. He missed them. So much. Maybe it was that, or it was a short moment of delusion, a surge in confidence or perhaps he was simply too worn out to care if he came off too strong, but he texted Jeno that he wanted to see them. Right now, if possible. And the next minutes were agony for him, of course. What if they said no? What if they’d be weirded out by the urgency in his text? What if— Oh they replied. ‘Sure! ^^ I’m at the rink already, please come soon! Oh, also, there’s someone here I’d like you to meet!’
Oh. Well, that wasn’t what Mark expected. A mixed, uneasy feeling settled in his stomach but he hurried to get dressed and pack his training bag nonetheless. Surely Jeno asking him to come soon ( please ) meant something, right? Or maybe it didn’t. And who would Mark be meeting? Was it a friend of Jeno’s? Another ice skater? Their partner ? He didn’t have a lot of time to keep thinking about it because, honestly, his feet carried him out of his house much faster than probably, well, ever , and soon enough he was already at the rink. His heart rate was definitely not happy about the urgency with which he’d been on his way. Or maybe he was nervous. Nervous to see Jeno again. Nervous to meet this ‘someone’ they had mentioned. Simply, well, nervous. He didn’t have much more time for nervousness though because Jeno greeted him in the changing room, basically attacking him in a hug that felt so good and comfortable to Mark that he never wanted to let go. “Long time no see, Mark.” He had no clue why Jeno was the one sounding so breathless, but he found their voice was music to his ears and gorgeous as absolutely ever. Fuck, he didn’t trust his voice to not break right then and there. So Mark went in for another hug instead, which Jeno did not seem to mind. Or maybe Mark was hallucinating the happy glint in their eyes.
He had already completely forgotten about the latter part of Jeno’s message when they grabbed his hand and urged him to hurry up, “Come on, I want you to meet someone important to me!”
Oh no. It was definitely their partner. Of course they’d have one! Why didn’t Mark see that? God, he was so stupid. There was barely any time for his negative cloud of thoughts though, as he was soon met face-to-face with a girl about his and Jeno’s age. She had long brown hair, pulled up into a ponytail, and Mark almost immediately recognized her as the ice skater who went viral last year for looking similar to that one lizard — or was it a dragon? — thing from a Dreamworks movie. When she smiled at him, knowingly, he realized that recognition must’ve been painted all across his face. “I’m Yeji, but I think you already figured that out?” She chuckled and took his hand to shake it firmly, “Let me guess, that collage of comparing me to the dragon creature? Yeah, I get that a lot.” Mark couldn’t help but let out a half-hearted, embarrassed chuckle himself, and he felt his confidence and bravoure the hug with Jeno had left him with seeping out of his body. She was gorgeous, apparently funny, and the way Jeno had gravitated to her side the moment they all met, Mark felt confirmed in his suspicions. Awesome! That was great. Yeah, just great. He’d be real happy for Jeno, of course. Okay, he would try at least. For real.
“I take it you’re the guy that’s been stealing Jeno away from me then?” Ouch. Even with the clearly teasing tone to her voice, it still left a little bit of a needle in Mark’s heart. He mustered up not much more but an awkward nod. Thankfully, Jeno seemed to notice the increasing discomfort that Mark felt and opened their mouth to speak. “Well, technically we hadn’t started training yet.” They smiled, “but yeah, Mark, this is my partner Yej! And, well, I guess Yeji already knows who you are because, well, I don’t think anyone who skates and resides in Canada right now doesn’t .” Wow, another needle. More like a knife, really, since the confirmation they were partners and the reference to the champs came from Jeno. Who, Mark hated to admit, had become somewhat of a safe haven for him in the time they’d spent together. “I really wish people didn’t know me from that.” He replied in a voice that sounded foreign even to himself, but neither Yeji nor seemingly Jeno noticed. Because the next thing that happened, and his reaction to it all, would surely ruin Jeno and his friendship for eternity.
Both of them started talking about how awesome it was that he’d represent Asian Canadians, that there were so many kids looking up to him, so many people who hadn’t thought it was possible, and maybe Jeno noticed that Mark was not comfortable with this topic at all but it was too little too late. He felt his breathing quicken, his pulse thrumming in his throat and before he could simply shut himself up or leave the damn room, Mark unloaded the frustrations of the past weeks on two people who were the furthest from being at fault for it all. He didn’t even know what he was saying at some point or how he made it into the changing room, but Mark found himself sobbing in a corner of the room, clutching his arms so so tightly that he wasn’t sure if he wasn’t actually drawing blood. The sound of a door opening had his head shooting up and, barely through the tears, he could make out Jeno moving closer towards him. “Please don’t touch me.” He whispered, almost wailed, in an attempt to keep Jeno away from him, away from this . He’d never let anyone see him during these attacks, he sure as hell didn’t want to start now. But Jeno was already sitting down opposite from him and Mark broke into a sob again. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” He cried and hid his face in his arms, feeling so impossibly humiliated by the fact that someone was watching him cry like this. “I’m sorry about blowing up”, he couldn’t stop himself from apologizing, “I’m sorry for saying those things. It’s just. So hard.” He felt another wave of sobs going through his body, and then he felt Jeno scooting to sit right next to him. “Can I hug you, maybe?” Jeno asked in a voice so soft and quiet that Mark couldn’t help but throw himself into their arms and cry his heart out. He knew, in the back of his mind, that they would need to talk about this in depth, but for now he was so grateful to be able to let it all out in the arms of someone who felt almost as safe to him as his family would. That realization scared him a little, to be honest.
It took him a while to calm down, but when Mark’s sobs subsided and turned into soft, shallow breaths, Jeno finally loosened their grip and let him out of their arms. They even pushed the hair out of his face that was sticking to Mark’s forehead and wiped some of the wetness off of his cheeks. It was so tender, so sweet and such a thoughtful gesture that Mark almost wanted to start crying again.
“Listen, Mark.” They spoke up softly, measuring Mark with a gaze so intense that he didn’t dare look away and could only nod, “I know what it’s like to feel the weight of the world put pressure on you. I know a little bit of what it’s like to go through what you’re going through right now. It’s not really comparable, but you know, back home? I had a partner before Yeji, who. Well. He injured himself really badly, to the point where he couldn’t skate anymore. It happened right after we performed a lift in our routine and you know who was blamed for this once in a million, terrible damn mistake? Me, of course. Because two people who look like guys shouldn’t have been skating partners in the first place, because I was clearly too heavy and had too much muscle for him to lift me, for so many other, nonsensical reasons.” Jeno took a deep breath and Mark didn’t know what else to do but to grab their hand tightly, as if to signal that he was right there with them. “Well, you see, it took me forever to regain faith in my abilities and to even start looking for a partner. And really, I adore Yeji, don’t get me wrong but—“ They sighed. So sadly and desperately that it broke Mark’s heart into a million pieces. “I adore her. And I love skating with her. But I wish that I could be skating like I want to again. Not confined entirely to the ‘male’ part of the performance, viewed as a guy over and over and over again.” The look Jeno gave Mark was loaded with emotion, with unspoken words and a desperation that Mark hadn’t even deemed anyone else but him capable of. “So, yeah, it’s different. But I get you, Mark.” They squeezed his hand, their fingers still intertwined. And Mark felt his brain short-circuit. He didn’t even realize he was doing it before his face was mere centimeters away from Jeno’s and he felt their breath (their fast breath?) on his own lips. It made him halt in his movement, stop and hang right then and there. The last, little gap felt more like a cliff that Mark wasn’t sure he could really jump off of. “This is terrible timing Mark, but please just do it.” He felt them speak almost against his own lips and yeah, maybe both the vocal encouragement as well as that feeling of almost being there had him surging forward to kiss Jeno with a desperation he’d never felt before in his life. And yeah, even with the permission that he was granted Mark still felt a tingle of surprise when Jeno started kissing him back with such vigor that he really, really hoped no one would walk i— “Oh my god, you guys are joking. Like, actually kidding. Right?” Yeji’s voice had them quite literally jumping apart from each other. “Listen, I knew you had the hots for each other, but ew . I take it apologies are accepted all around, though?” Yeah, she definitely wasn’t letting them continue. Mark couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but it immediately caught in his throat when he saw the deep pink blush that had spread over Jeno’s face. It was absolutely gorgeous and, really, he might have to return to the matter of liking or hating Yeji at a later date because he was severely biased against her in that very moment. “You’re an idiot.” Jeno measured that insult at Yeji, or maybe at him, or maybe at themself. Maybe even everyone in the room altogether. But it made all three of them break into lighthearted laughter and the two of them stood up to join Yeji and continue the only slightly interrupted training session. Mark still hated the PR part of professional skating, even more so now that he heard a little bit of Jeno’s story, but the actual skating part was still the most fun in the world. Okay. Maybe after kissing Jeno, now.
Months went by and their nightly practices, both with and without Yeji, although the former might have had a little less training and a lot more kissing, had gotten sparse again as Mark was gearing up to skate at the championships. Yuta had him on a rigorous schedule and diet and at times Mark felt like he really wanted to quit again. But after another conversation about the reception to him as representative that he had had with Yeji and Jeno, he felt more pride in it than he’d ever really allowed himself to. Even Yuta mentioned that he seemed more like himself again, more like the kid absolutely obsessed with nailing every bit of technique he could, that he’d met years and years ago. And so Mark found himself going through his programme again, for the third time that morning, when something on the ice threw him off. In hindsight he really had no clue if it was his own mistake and he imagined something, or if there was genuinely something wrong with the ice, but it didn’t really matter. Because he’d sprained his ankle, badly. And the doctor’s strict instruction was to not put pressure on it, let alone skate, for the next three weeks. Three weeks of training that Mark couldn’t allow himself to miss. His routine wasn’t perfect, not even anywhere near good , and now he was supposed to simply ‘sit and rest’ for three entire Weeks? Maybe this was a sign, maybe he should’ve quit skating after all.
He spent the first week of his resting period returning to bad habits. Laying in bed, reading all the comments on recent pictures he’d posted or articles that had been released talking about his possible routine, what he was going to wear, who he would have a rivalry with. Moping. He was moping. And Jeno wasn’t having that, apparently, because very early on a Saturday morning Mark’s bell rang and when he checked his app to see who was bothering him this early in the morning, he was met with Jeno. Jeno, who was wearing makeup . Never had Mark opened a door faster for anyone in his life. Okay. Maybe he had, given that he was, you know, hindered by a sprained ankle.
He really, really wanted to kiss them as a greeting but Jeno stepped back almost immediately after he had opened the door to his apartment. “You, good sir,” they smiled mischievously. Uh oh. “You are coming with me. Come, come.” And before Mark could even reply, or change , because his sweatpants that he’d been wearing for three days and a T-Shirt with tomato sauce stains he never got out of it wasn’t exactly on par with the absolute gorgeousness of Jeno’s full face of makeup, he was dragged out of his apartment. He was still mesmerized by the eyeliner Jeno had on, the glitter on their eyelids and the soft tinted gloss that was shining on their lips and practically inviting Mark to kiss them silly, when Jeno opened a car door for him and broke him out of his thirsti— appreciation. His appreciation. “You can stare as much as you want later, love, but please get in now because I’m pretty sure I’m in a no-parking zone.” Jeno laughed and Mark, well, complied. And went right back to square one of taking in the person that was driving him now . If you had asked Mark a year ago whether or not driving could be hot, he would’ve said ‘fuck no’, but now he would be eating those words. Because Jeno made it hot, somehow. Or maybe Mark had simply missed them too much in the past weeks and was ready to jump their bones at first breath. What? He’d never think that. You’re so dirty-minded, dear Reader. (No, but seriously. Mark had a hard time not asking Jeno to pull over so that he could kiss the lipgloss right off of their lips.)
They soon drove a path that was all too familiar to Mark and he wondered why Jeno was driving them both to the rink, knowing that he couldn’t exactly, well, train or anything. Until they were there and Jeno pulled out a bag from the trunk that Mark was entirely sure he’d seen before. “Oh.” Realization dawned on him. “That’s your costume. I’m gonna watch you perform ?” He blurted out and his fellow skater seemed a little too happy to see him finally realize. “Yup. I also brought some tissues, depending on how it’ll go.” They joked, while taking a hold of Mark’s hand and slowly walking them both towards the rink. Unfortunately for him but probably, most likely, fortunately for Jeno and all other competitors, they had to part ways at the changing room and Mark received nothing but a short peck and the promised tissues to survive on while he sat down on the stands. It only took the usual formalities of introduction and hello’s and two other, in Mark’s opinion decent but somewhat mediocre teams, before Jeno (and Yeji, of course), were announced as the next contenders. He couldn’t help but move to the edge of his seat, which was a bit of a stupid decision, because the moment Mark laid eyes on Jeno, Jeno with makeup, Jeno with makeup in their costume , he almost fell to the ground. It wasn’t even a costume type that Mark had never seen - much less worn himself - before, but God it fit Jeno in all the right places. It hugged their waist like Mark could only dream of doing and made their thighs, usually hidden under wide, comfortable pants or sweatpants, look so detailed with muscle that Mark genuinely considered how it would feel to have Jeno choke him ou— Okay he had to stop, because their routine was starting and it would be insanely disrespectful to have horny thoughts instead of focusing on a friends- uh, colleagues? on Jeno’s performance.
Although he had seen bits and pieces of it before, both while training with Jeno alone and while joining Yeji and them at their partner practice, the final routine left him breathless. Jeno’s body moved in ways so elegant and mesmerizing that Mark almost felt embarrassed that he was the one representing an entire country for a championship. They were leading Yeji with such composure and steadfastness, Mark couldn’t help but find a new level of admiration for them. It was breathtaking to see. But Jeno didn’t look happy. Of course they were smiling. You had to, kind of. But Mark could see what probably the entire rest of the audience was blind to — that their smile simply wasn’t reaching their eyes.
The two finished their performance with only one mistake that Mark could spot, but apparently three on the board. It still landed them in third place overall, though, and when Jeno returned from all the pompous celebratory rituals to Mark’s arms, their smile was evident in every fibre of their being. “You were absolutely breathtaking out there.” Mark managed to get out in between hugging and taking Jeno in, and the blush that slowly spread across their face made him feel like melting into a puddle. It also made him come up with an idea. When he spoke up, so did Jeno. “I have a question!” They both blurted out, in almost-sync. “You first.” Mark chuckled, and he enjoyed the smile that Jeno met him with immensely. “Okay, well,” they started looking anywhere but at Mark, fidgeting with their hands, and Mark was already expecting the absolute worst, “would you want to, I don’t know, date? After your championship, of course!” Jeno said it all so fast that Mark almost didn’t catch it. Had they actually just asked him to date ? Oh god. “Um.” He began and to his demise Jeno’s face immediately fell a little, so his only natural reaction was to grab a hold of their hands. “Yes I would love to, please don’t think I wouldn’t!” Mark almost yelped that out, in a tone much higher than his natural voice, but at least Jeno’s face lit up again and their posture relaxed. “But um, I have to admit, I kind of thought we were doing that already…?” His voice trailed off into not much more than a mumble in the end and Mark absolutely hated the burning sensation of the blush that was surely planted on his face now. A very cute, but his nervousness only increasing, giggle came from Jeno. And instead of really giving him an answer to that, they simply pulled him in for a kiss that Mark was glad happened nowhere near the public as he was sure that he’d let out one or the other, rather humiliating sound.
Once they had kissed enough and made their way back to Jeno’s car, where they definitely didn’t start making out again either, no way (Author’s note: they did. Absolutely. Jeno has two hickeys now that they will need to buy a shitton of concealer for), Jeno asked about the question Mark had for them earlier. “Oh! Oh right.” He really had to get used to kissing someone this much, because he felt way too flustered to speak up right now. Thank god practice makes perfect. Okay, back on track. “Well, I wanted to ask, and that’s only if you’re comfortable with it of course, but, you know, would you maybe perhaps want to show me how to do partner routines? I saw how you were leading Yeji and I was just, mesmerised? I want do to that too, if you’d like.”
Never had Jeno looked more elated. Their smile was quite literally searing a happiness into Mark’s being that he was sure he’d never forget that moment, and the overenthusiastic kiss Jeno pulled him in for that sort of knocked their noses and teeth together was confirmation enough that, yes, they’d love to.
A couple of years later, there would be just another article released about Mark Lee, the skating legend of Canada, in a smaller magazine that was mostly targeting those interested in the sport rather than the broad public.
“Mark Lee, Silver medalist of the 2024 World Figure Skating Championship, announces his departure from the category Men to that of Pairs, joined by skating partner and husband Jeno Lee.”