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There were so many things about ice skating that Jacques adored. The freedom, the adoring fans, the gold medals ; the list was endless. However, one thing he liked significantly less was losing. The humiliation was unbearable, and Josee’s outbursts once they got to the hotel room was so much worse. She always threw a fit if it was anything other than gold, Jacques has a scar from when things got particularly bad after a bronze medal.
That’s why his stomach dropped when he heard that they didn’t even qualify.
He wished he had an excuse, something to tell Josee to make her calm down and perhaps the retaliation would be lessened, she might be merciful. Yet, there was nothing to say. It wasn’t like he could lie either, Josse and him spend every moment with each other. She would know; her anger would only grow.
While they were leaving the building, anger radiated off of her like heat would from a heater. You wouldn’t be able to tell from the outside, as she seemed completely calm, but when you’ve known someone since you both were in kindergarten then you tend to pick up on their subtle movements. How her muscles were tensed in her arm, how her feet hit the ground with a bit more force than usual, how her pupils were slightly contracted. To anyone else it would seem as if she was dealing with the loss with grace, but to him? She was more like an animal on the prowl, ready to strike her prey at any time, and he was a deer in headlights.
The second they left, reporters were in their faces. Microphones and cameras from every angle. Josse turned to the right to address one, while he turned to the left. He expected to face an average reporter, one that wanted a reaction from him, but instead he was greeted with something so much better. “Got any room in the limelight for the guy who made your outfits?” A familiar voice spoke above the rest, and to Jacques it sounded like the most beautiful sound one could hear. Cameras turned to Tom, who moved to be standing right next to Jacques.
The reporters instantly started asking questions as this had been the first time they had worn something different. Jacques watched as Tom’s face lit up with glee, starting to talk a lot about the outfits and what had inspired him. A warm fuzzy feeling spread throughout him along with a calm as Tom wrapped an arm around his, holding his upper arm as if it was the most precious thing in the world.
Soon, the reporters dispersed, all rushing towards the victors. Josee immediately turned to glare at Jacques, “You imbecile! How could you humiliate me today like that??” Ah. The cold isolated feeling returned, spreading through his core. She let out a huff as she carefully eyed Tom, who was giving her a look that neither he nor Josee could decipher, “I’ll see you at the hotel,” She uttered before turning on her heel and walking the opposite direction.
Suddenly Jacques chest was too tight, his eyes were burning and he found himself gasping, the air unwilling to enter his lungs and stay. He all but collapsed to the ground, knees and hands slamming against the rough asphalt while his spotless camera persona crumbled and left a mess. Tears started to fall, sob after sob being ripped from his lungs. When he did manage to get any air in, the icy air of the night stung his throat, it almost felt like it had cut it open and caused blood to spill into his lungs. His whole body shook, it felt like he was dying.
If he was, would it really be that bad?
The thought alone shocked him out of his panic for a moment before more sobs came, his body trembling worse than before, the breaths becoming harder to come by, as a terrifying train of thought came across him. No. It wouldn’t be. He was the one who ruined everything for Josee. There were so many times where he had messed up and pulled her down with him. No-one would care. She’d find a different partner and all the fans would flock to them, forgetting him within a manner of months. Who would care?
It was then his brain finally tuned more into his surroundings, when a familiar pair of hands cupped his face and lifted it to look at the owner. Tom. Tom would care. He could faintly make out the sound of his voice over the pounding of blood in his ears, “Jacques, please, darling, just take deep breaths for me.” The blonde obeyed. With a lot of difficulty, he managed to start drawing in breaths. In, and out. In, and out. With each breath, it became easier and easier. His tears calmed, his body trembling ceased, and his lungs were able to fill without searing pain. He rolled back, so instead of being on his hands and knees he was kneeling. The pain in his hands suddenly came to the forefront of his mind, when he looked down he saw several stones embedded into his palms, a few layers of skin scraped off. After glancing up, he saw his boyfriends eyes staring right back into his, glimmering with worry.
Without saying a word, Tom opened his arms. Jacques immediately accepted the hug offering, burying his face in his boyfriend's shoulder. Tom's arms were so comfortable, so warm. They shielded him from the outside heat, all he could think about was him. And them. The world disappeared. Quite frankly, he didn’t want it to come back.