Chapter Text
The slight chill bites his nose and teases his fingertips. It feels sharp and clear, as does everything else in the arena; the bright white of the ice, the rink’s defined edges, the twin lines his skates carve out behind him.
Sharp and clear. That’s how Levi endeavors to make his movements. No muscle out of line, no skate wavering in the slightest. Sharp, clear, and controlled. Levi takes a breath and closes his eyes, envisioning his routine. The minute he opens them, he launches into motion.
His routines are difficult. It’s a matter of intense concentration, awareness of every inch of his body. “Effortlessly graceful,” he’s been called – but in reality it takes a great deal of effort. The harder he works, the easier it looks. And the easier it looks, the more Levi appears to float across the ice and fly through the air. And, when he does everything correctly, he feels that way, too – like he’s flying, like gravity no longer has control over him.
That’s the feeling Levi lives for.
He moves through each intricate part of his routine, ending in a particularly difficult jump and settling into his final pose. It feels a little silly to strike the pose now, in the empty space where no one will applaud for him, but Levi always practices exactly how he’ll perform. He holds his arms up and keeps his eyes closed, already thinking about the routine he just did and the improvements that need to be made. His concentration is not broken until a sound cuts through what he thought was an empty arena. One anomalous, unexpected set of hands clap together, creating a harsh sound that echoes across the rink.
Levi scowls at the man leaning on the boards, a man who should definitely not be here.
“I’m terribly sorry to bother you,” the man says when he sees Levi’s scowl. “I thought the rink would be empty and came by to practice.”
“I booked this space,” Levi says. “I have it for another half hour. Come back later.”
“My apologies. I must have misread the schedule,” he says. “But, since I’m already here, would you mind terribly if I watched for the remainder of your practice? You’re very skilled.”
“Yes, I would mind,” Levi says. Not the most polite response, but Levi never cared much about that. His solitary practice times are important to him.
“Very well, then,” the man says, apparently unperturbed by Levi’s rudeness. “I’ll come back in half an hour.”
And he leaves. Levi watches his retreating form with some curiosity. This man is tall, broad, and blond, and for some reason looks very familiar.
*****
Levi knows that the man takes the ice as soon as he’s done. He sees him stepping onto the rink from a different entrance than where Levi exits. And Levi doesn’t really care. He’s already thinking about something else.
But as Levi’s about to step into the locker room, he hears the man’s blades scrape against the ice and glances over his shoulder. Just out of curiosity.
What he sees is not what he expects.
This man can skate. Not just basic tricks, like Levi was expecting. Beautiful, complex, demanding tricks that only the very best can achieve. He moves through jumps and spins with extraordinary precision and expertise. The skill level is incredible, but more than that, he is captivating. He gives the impression of having complete command over the entire rink, and Levi can’t bring himself to look away.
The man glides close to where Levi is watching, and Levi quickly ducks into the locker room door to avoid being seen. As he leaves the arena, he can’t stop thinking about what he just witnessed.
Levi knows now exactly why the man looked familiar. But he’s having a hard time believing it.
*****
Erwin Smith and his partner, Marie Dawk, gave a performance for the history books at last year’s winter Olympics.
Levi rewatches their Olympic routine that night on YouTube. The man from that afternoon looks so different in costume, like someone unreal who could never actually be met. But he has the tight turns and precise landings and strong presence that Levi had watched that day. His talent seems almost superhuman.
Erwin Smith and his partner had pulled off some impossible lifts and some gorgeous jumps in that routine. They had won silver, but the denial of the gold was still hotly contested among fans of figure skating.
Levi watches through their routine twice. Marie makes an elegant figure in a purple dress and white beading on the bodice. Erwin wears a matching (and slightly silly-looking) outfit of white trousers and a purple shirt. It definitely looks better on her than him, but then again, she commands more of viewer’s attention. Erwin is merely there to compliment Marie, to support her when necessary and to mirror her when not. He grounds the performance, but Marie provides the beauty and elegance that people watch Olympic figure skating for. Still, both are equally impressive skaters. Levi examines each movement with a critical eye and, despite the routine’s difficulty, can’t find a single moment when a skate’s out of line.
*****
When Levi returns to the rink the next day, he finds Erwin Smith unlacing his skates in the locker room.
“You’re Erwin Smith,” Levi says. It comes out in an almost accusatory tone. How dare he be Erwin Smith, Olympic silver medalist, and yet be right in front of him. So unassuming. And be so damn annoying.
Erwin looks up, surprised. “I am,” he says. “I’m flattered that you recognize me.”
“Of course I fucking recognize you. What are you doing here?”
“I just finished practicing-”
“No, I mean in this town.” Levi would know if Erwin Smith lived in the same town as him. He would remember that kind of detail about one of the best skaters in the world.
“I’ve made a recent move.” That meant he would be using this rink from now on. Levi doesn’t know how he feels about that.
“Marie Dawk move here too?” Levi’s not quite sure why he’s being so confrontational, but it’s either that or admit how incredibly overwhelming it is to be in the presence of Erwin fucking Smith.
“No, she didn’t,” Erwin says. His tone is even, as though making a remark of no consequence, but his voice is just a little quieter than before.
“Then how are you two going to practice?”
“Oh, we’re not partners anymore.”
“What?” Levi’s shocked out of his irritation. There’s no way the two of them aren’t partners anymore. Erwin Smith and Marie Dawk are always together, one entity, names said in quick sequence as though they’re one word.
“She wanted to focus on her marriage and raise a family. She stopped skating.”
“Someone as good as Marie Dawk doesn’t just stop skating.”
Erwin smiles sadly. “That’s what I said.” Then he stands, bag slung over his shoulder, and says, “Have a nice practice,” as casually as though they had been discussing the weather and not the end of one of the most influential duos in the figure skating world.
Levi’s standing in the middle of the locker room, mulling over the weirdest conversation he’s had in a while, when he hears Erwin call, “I never caught your name.”
Startled out of his thoughts, Levi looks over his shoulder to see Erwin standing in the doorway. From this angle, Erwin looks impressively tall. “Uh, Levi.”
“Levi.” Erwin says it slowly, as if discovering how the word tastes in his mouth. The sound makes Levi feel weird in a way he can’t quite identify. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ll see you around.” And Erwin gives Levi a smile, one that’s kind and warm and not unattractive. Levi’s too startled by the smile to respond, and then Erwin’s gone, leaving Levi to wonder what just happened.
*****
Levi’s coach is already on the ice when he arrives, running through a few moves while she waits for him. Levi steps onto the ice and watches her elegantly come out of a spin. “Hi,” Petra says. She’s smiling, as usual. She’s so cheerful that Levi wonders how they’ve been able to work together so well. “You’ll never guess who I was watching just now.”
“Erwin Smith,” Levi says.
“Okay, it looks like you did guess.”
“I met him.”
“I talked to him a little, too. He seems really nice.”
“I guess.” Levi begins moving around the ice, doing some quick warm-up laps. Petra falls into step next to him.
“Shame he’s going to be your competition at nationals this year. He’ll be hard to beat.”
“He’s entering men’s singles?”
“Of course. He’s split off with his partner, so men’s singles is the only way he can still compete.”
“Oh.” Levi hadn’t thought of that yet, what with the shock of finding a world-class figure skater sharing the rink with him. But of course that makes perfect sense. And it means that Levi will see even more of Erwin around the competition circuit. So much for winning Nationals with Erwin fucking Smith competing against him.
“Anyway,” Petra says, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Let’s get started by working through some choreography.”
*****
National championships are in three months. International championships are six months after that. And the Olympics are in three years.
Levi intends to go to all of them.
It’s not that he wants the fame or the medal or the recognition. Levi could skate without anyone watching for all he cares. It’s that Levi wants to go as far as he can go. With each higher level of competition, Levi gets closer to the feeling of clarity, of freedom, that he skates for. Going to the Olympics, he figures, will feel the freest of all.
He finishes a run-through under Petra’s watchful eye and then drops his final pose, waiting for Petra’s feedback.
“That was really good,” she calls from the edge of the rink. “Pick up the timing on that camel spin, but other than that you have the moves down almost perfectly. But . . .”
Levi doesn’t like that word. “But what?”
“It’s missing something.”
Levi crosses his arms and waits for Petra’s pronouncement.
“I think it needs more choreography.”
Levi suppresses a groan. He hates the choreography, the little dances that just take up space and aren’t very difficult. For him, it’s is all about the technical skill of the tricks, and any choreography is just fluff. “There’s choreography every second I’m not doing a specific move,” Levi says. “I don’t know where you could squeeze in any more.”
Petra tilts her head to the side and taps her finger against her chin, thinking. “Everything technical you have down. You also have the grace and poise we need. But for some reason, you’re just lacking in presence. It’s kind of like . . . you’re so small and flighty you need something to ground you.”
Levi scowls at that. He hates unnecessary choreography, and he’s not too thrilled at being called “small and flighty” either. But he trusts Petra’s instincts, and he knows that doing what Petra suggests is the key to making it where he wants to go.
“Well,” he says, not bothering to hide the annoyance from his tone. “What do you suggest?”
*****
For the next several days, Petra fills a good chunk of Levi’s practice sessions with new ideas and ways to rewrite the routine, trying to get him to look more “grounded”. But each one falls short of Petra’s vision, and Levi’s beginning to wonder if it’s a lost cause. He’s small and quick, and he’s never been the type to take up space or demand attention.
That seems to be Erwin Smith’s role. They see only each other in passing over the next couple weeks, but wherever they meet Erwin seems to take up the whole space he’s in. Fill doorways, block hallways, take up all of Levi’s attention in the locker room until the air feels warm and stifling. The guy seems to be everywhere, and he sticks in Levi’s mind after he’s gone. And it pisses Levi off.
When Erwin shows up, yet again, to one of his solitary practices, Levi’s had enough.
“There’s a class after me,” Levi snaps at him. Erwin’s sitting in the bleachers, apparently just watching, and Levi doesn’t know how long he’s been there. “You won’t be able to practice.”
Erwin stands and approaches the rink. Levi can tell by how he walks that he already wears his skates. “I came to see you,” he says.
“I’m practicing alone.” Levi tries to emphasize the word “alone”.
“You’re amazing, you know.”
Well, Levi’s not expecting that. He swallows back his initial reaction – surprise and pride and a strange, jittery feeling that comes with the words – so that all that’s left is irritation. “What, are you ingratiating yourself to the competition?” he asks.
“What? No. Not at all.”
“Says the Olympic silver medalist complimenting the young skater.”
“I have no ulterior motive. Just because I’m good doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate others who are,” Erwin says smoothly. He bends down to lean against the boards. “Can I skate with you?”
Skate with him? What does he want to do, skate around in leisurely circles while they share their life stories? “No.”
“You’re very blunt, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
Erwin smiles. This one is a strange smile. His mouth turns up but his eyes are focused, as though Levi’s a puzzle that he enjoys solving. It’s not any less attractive than his other smile, but it gives Levi the jittery feeling again. “I’m sorry if my request came across as odd. You see, I miss skating with someone else. Someone to critique me and to build ideas off of.”
“And what makes you think I’m going to give that to you?”
“You’re the only skater in the area who’s skilled enough.”
“High praise, coming from someone with your reputation.”
“It’s true.”
Levi turns to skate away, but he motions over his shoulder as he does so. It’s a last-minute decision, made almost in spite of himself. The only thing Levi wants to do more than see Erwin piss off is to figure out what Erwin’s deal is. “Well, you’ve flattered me enough, I guess,” he says. “But don’t expect too much. I don’t like to talk while I skate.”
Levi returns to drilling the move he had been practicing, a short traveling jump. It’s much trickier than the low height would suggest, and Levi aims to practice it until he cannot possibly get it wrong.
“That’s impressive,” Erwin says. “You’re very graceful.”
“Mm-hm.”
“May I suggest something?”
Levi wants to say no. But then again, this is an Olympic silver medalist offering to give him advice. He nods.
“Have your arms up a little higher on the landing. They’re not just out to balance you; they’re also demanding that the audience look at you.”
“I keep my arms parallel to the ice on the landing,” Levi says.
“You’re actually holding them slightly lower. It’s easy to do, especially when concentrating on your footwork and your posture. And while it’s barely noticeable, the change will help your performance.”
Levi shrugs, but when he takes the jump again, he tries out Erwin’s advice. Sure enough, his balance and momentum feel slightly stronger.
“That looks better already,” Erwin says. “You’re good at making quick improvements.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Levi says, gliding past Erwin. He runs the move a couple more times, careful to keep the change.
“I wasn’t patronizing you,” Erwin says when he’s done. “You’d be surprised at how many people are reluctant to take suggestions.”
“Maybe it’s because you offer it down like think you’re better than everyone.”
“Do I?”
“You do.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I certainly don’t think I’m better than everyone.”
“Then don’t walk around with your nose in the air.”
“But good posture is important.”
Levi gives him a sidelong glare. Erwin’s barely suppressed smile shows that he intended the statement as a joke. That’s almost worse than if he hadn’t, given how incredibly not funny it was. He can’t believe that this is a world-famous skater.
Levi decides to not honor that statement with a response and continues practicing his jump.
“So, will you be entering Nationals this year?” Erwin asks after a minute of silence. “I hear that there’s a lot of strong young competition coming up.”
“You talk too much,” Levi says.
“Well, I know I’m not taciturn and blunt, but we can’t all be perfect.”
Levi stops and stares. The line was delivered in a deadpan, and Erwin’s expression betrays nothing. No one has ever commented on his poor social skills in such a direct way before. Levi’s kind of impressed.
Of course, he’s not going to say as much. Instead, he skates past Erwin and, as he does, stops suddenly and sends a cascade of ice savings flying onto him. Unfortunately, Erwin is so damn tall that it all lands harmlessly somewhere around his middle.
“Well now, that was childish.” But Erwin’s smile and suppressed laughter reveal what he really thinks.
“You were asking for it, old man.”
“Excuse me, but I’m barely older than you.”
Levi practices his jump again in a blatant display of ignoring Erwin.
“Well then, if we’re going to be fighting, I’d like to propose a skating-themed conflict.”
Levi crosses his arms and cocks his head, waiting to see what the hell Erwin is thinking.
“My old partner and I would often have what we called skate-offs,” Erwin says. “Would you indulge me in one now?”
“What is it?”
“We simply challenge each other on different skating abilities.”
“I think that’d be a pretty unfair competition.”
“I think you underestimate your own abilities. We could start simple – for example, the
most triple jumps in under a minute.”
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anything lamer.”
“I’m honored to have set a record.”
Levi shakes his head. “You’re on, Mr. Olympics,” he says. “Time me.”
*****
An hour later, Levi is exhausted, out of breath, and thoroughly enjoying himself. They’ve done as many stupid competitions as they could think of—most rotations of a spin in under thirty seconds, fastest skating, slowest skating (to practice control), and so on. And every now and then, Erwin had given him pointers on his moves, little changes that made Levi that much better. At one point, Levi even dared to give a suggestion to Erwin, and he gladly took it.
It’s still a little weird to step back and realize he’s skating with Erwin fucking Smith. And he still gives Levi that uncomfortable jittery feeling that he can’t describe. But Erwin has an enthusiasm for skating and a dedication to the art that Levi can’t help but respect. Besides, Levi’s having fun with him. And Levi, if he’s going to be honest with himself, rarely has fun.
At the conclusion of yet another silly competition, Erwin says, “I have a bit of an odd request to ask of you.”
“Odder than a five minute spin sequence?” Levi’s still a little dizzy from that one.
“Yes, even odder than that,” Erwin says with a chuckle.
“Well, what is it?”
“Could I practice a lift with you? Not anything difficult, of course. Just a simple one.”
It takes a minute for Levi to realize what Erwin is asking of him, and another to convince himself that he understood correctly. “What?”
“I’m thinking of returning to pairs skating, but I worry that I’ve let some of my skills drop without someone to practice lifts with.”
“Holy shit. No. Ask Petra. She used to skate pairs.”
“I didn’t know that, I will ask her. But for the time being . . .”
“No.”
Erwin sighs. “Very well. It was something of a long shot.”
“You’re a weirdo, you know that?” Erwin merely shrugs. “What do I have to do?”
“Hm?”
“For you to lift me. What do I have to do?” He’s gone along with enough weird challenges today that, honestly, another one couldn’t hurt. And he can’t help but be a little curious as to what Erwin intends to do.
“You’ll do it?”
“Just once. Quickly. Call it payment for giving me advice. Now, what do I have to do?”
“Just skate towards me,” Erwin says. “And keep your core tight. We’ll just do a basic waist lift.”
Well. That much Levi can do. He skates to Erwin.
The lift happens more quickly, and more fluidly, than Levi expected. One second he’s skating normally, the next his feet leave the ice. Erwin’s hands close around his waist and lift him up with seemingly effortless grace, cool air fluttering in his hair as Erwin moves around the rink. Levi steadies himself with his hands on Erwin’s shoulders and looks down. Erwin can’t see where he’s going, but he seems to be doing fine regardless, face set in concentration.
Then Erwin says, “I’m putting you down now” as he slows to a stop. They’re motionless for a moment, and from this angle Levi notices the exact shade of gold in Erwin’s hair and the exact curve of his nose. Then Levi’s set down on the ice, and the unusual moment is over.
“Thanks for doing that,” Erwin says.
Levi shrugs. “It wasn’t hard. But then again, it was nothing like a lift you’d do in competition.”
“That’s true,” Erwin says with a smile.
“Let’s do that again,” Levi says. “Keep skating when you set me down this time, like you’d do in a real lift.”
“I don’t want you to fall,” Erwin says.
“I haven’t fallen on the ice for years. Trust me, I’ll be fine.”
“Very well. Keep your core tight and elevate your spine.”
Levi skates a few yards away before turning around to face Erwin again. “Got it,” he says.
This time’s easier. He knows when to expect Erwin, and he’s ready when Erwin’s hands grasp his sides. He even has the presence of mind to arch his back and keep his hands off Erwin’s shoulders, making the lift more similar to one Erwin would do with a female skater. Levi closes his eyes briefly, feeling the air rush by him. And he has the thought that this is closer to flying than any skating he’s ever done before.
“Ready to be set down?”
Levi opens his eyes. “Ready.”
The dismount is anything but graceful. Levi doesn’t know what to do with the momentum Erwin gives him, and he ends up sliding backwards and stumbling, unsure which edge of the skate to settle on. But he stays on his feet, and that’s more than a lot of people can say for their first time coming out of a lift.
“Not bad,” Erwin says.
“One more time.”
“Are you sure? You said only once.”
Levi shrugs. “There’s no point in practicing something only once. Come on. Let’s go.”
They end up practicing the lift three more times. And each time, Levi’s a little better—a little more graceful, a little stronger on the dismount. And each time, Levi feels more like he really is flying.
After their fifth practice lift, Erwin smiles at him and says, “You’re getting better every time.”
“Yeah, well . . .” Levi trails off. He notices that Erwin’s hands haven’t moved from Levi’s waist. But he doesn’t want to say anything, because that would be making it a big deal. And it’s not a big deal. And the warmth pooling in his middle is from the exertion of the long practice, and not from anything else.
Levi glances to the side and freezes when he sees Petra leaning against the boards, watching intently.
Now he yanks himself away from Erwin’s grasp, mortified. Erwin follows Levi’s gaze to where Petra stands, and he doesn’t look too comfortable himself.
“Okay, we’re done,” Levi says. He remembers that Petra teaches the class that afternoon. He should have been expecting her to show up. But his practice slot can’t be over already, can it? He feels like he’s barely begun.
“Yes. Um, thank you for the practice,” Erwin says. Levi doesn’t respond. Instead, he speeds to the edge of the rink—the opposite edge from where Petra stands—and stalks off to the locker room without saying goodbye.
*****
Two days later, Petra is in the lobby when Levi enters the arena. So is Erwin’s coach. And so is Erwin.
Levi’s eyes travel over each one in turn, lingering on Erwin. They’re all standing in a row and, when Levi enters, all three of them turn to face him. It’s borderline creepy.
“Levi,” Petra says. “We have a proposition for you.”
“Okay?” He notices that all three of them look, in varying degrees, a little nervous.
“The other day, I saw you and Erwin doing lifts together,” Petra says. “You took to it really well. Few people look like that their first time being lifted.”
Levi has no idea where she’s going with this. He glances at the other two. Erwin’s coach is simply watching, but he’s looking at Petra more than Levi. Erwin’s face is schooled into a blank look, awkwardness revealed only in the fact that he’s looking above Levi’s head and not at Levi himself.
“And remember what I was saying before about needing to give you more presence?”
“Yeah . . .”
“Well Erwin has a lot of presence on the ice. And according to his coach, what he’s missing—grace and a sense of delicacy—is what you have. So, it’s a little unorthodox, but we were thinking—all three of us, I mean—that we might really have a winning team if you skate pairs with Erwin.”
His mind grinds to a halt. Levi looks from one to the other, expecting someone to explain or declare that it was only a joke. But they’re all only watching him expectantly.
“What?”
“I know it sounds strange, but we think you two have really great chemistry--”
“You want me to skate the lady’s part with Erwin?”
“You do have the build for it.”
“Is that even legal?”
Erwin’s coach—Levi doesn’t even remember his name—speaks up for the first time. “It’s a new rule change within the skating commission, passed only a couple weeks ago. Same sex couples can now skate as pairs. Civil rights groups lobbied for it.”
Levi gapes at them. He turns to Erwin and asks, “Do you want to do this?”
“I do need a new partner,” Erwin says. “And you’re a very talented skater who I respect and enjoy skating with--”
“Don’t tell me this was your idea?” he spits.
“It was my idea,” Petra says. “But Erwin was enthusiastic about it. Look, at nationals you guys will have to skate singles anyway. It’s too soon to work out new routines. But for internationals, I’d really like to give this a try.”
“No,” Levi says. He practically spits out the word, and layering all his annoyance into it. “I skate alone.” And he shoves past them to the locker room.
Levi’s irritably lacing up his skates when Erwin enters. Great. Exactly who he wants to see.
Erwin moves slowly, as if not to disturb Levi. He sits on the bench across from him and waits for Levi to look up. Levi doesn’t.
“Levi,” Erwin says. His voice is soft. Levi doesn’t like the way his name sounds in Erwin’s mouth. “I understand your discomfort. It’s certainly an unusual request, and I have nothing but respect for your decision either way. But I would really like to give it a try.”
Levi sighs and looks up. He’s about to tell Erwin to fuck off, but something in Erwin’s expression makes him pause. That gives Erwin just enough time to begin speaking again.
“Think of it this way. After Nationals, there’ll be a period of a couple months before we have to start thinking about putting together our routines for Internationals. During those two months, we can practice together in a sort of trial period. And after that trial period, we can decide if we want to go through with it.”
He speaks with a calm, quiet tone, almost soothing. And when Levi looks up at him, his eyes are pleading. Clearly, for whatever reason, he wants to go through with it, though Levi can’t imagine why. Erwin seems so earnest that Levi briefly considers saying yes just out of pity—but Levi never does anything out of pity, and he quickly clamps down on that impulse.
Still, Erwin makes a good argument. A trial period is a lot less daunting than committing right now to be Erwin’s partner. And it would be a good way to challenge himself with something new before plunging into preparation for Internationals.
“Fine,” he says with a sigh. “We can do a two month trial period. Don’t expect any more than that.”
Erwin smiles. “I think that’s only fair. Thank you, Levi.”
“You’re welcome. Now I came here to practice, not to discuss stupid ideas.”