Chapter Text
Grian fell in love with the ice before he ever understood competition.
As a kid, the rink seemed huge and bright, with cold air that stung his lungs. His skates left messy scratches, and he fell often. Bruised knees, wet gloves, and hurt pride came with the falls.
No matter what, it didn’t make a difference. Each time he stood up and tried again, over and over, he felt weightless, as if the ice itself was holding him up. Gliding across it brought him freedom and pure happiness, a place where all the problems of the world seemed to vanish.
That love grew the day he met Mumbo, when they were kids.
Mumbo was taller, a little awkward, with a nervous smile and shaky hands while tying his skates. They met by chance, circling the rink and almost colliding at center ice.
“Whoa! Sorry!” Mumbo said, wobbling and almost falling.
Grian chuckled, staying steady as he reached out to help him. “It’s okay. You’re not going to knock me over.”
Mumbo blinked, a shy smile spreading across his face as relief washed over him. “Thanks… I’m Mumbo.”
“Grian,” he said, looking at Mumbo. “Race to the other end?”
Mumbo hesitated, then nodded. “Okay…loser buys hot chocolate?”
After that, they skated together. Slowly at first, then all the time. By their early teens, it felt natural, Grian was quick and expressive, meanwhile Mumbo was steady and strong. Coaches noticed, judges noticed. Before long, they weren’t just friends anymore, they were partners, true competitors on the ice.
And then there was Scar. He had been his rival ever since Mumbo and himself became a team, always showing up to compete against them.
Scar seemed untouchable. Confident, flawless, skating with a partner just as sharp, winning gold after gold, standing ovations, headlines. Every competition, he reminded Grian of how far they still had to go. Scar and his partner Lizzie were perfect for each other when it came between him and Mumbo.
He can’t stand losing, especially not to his rival. On the other hand, he doesn’t see what’s so special about Scar’s charm.
How could he and Mumbo go up against a skilled sibling duo on the ice?
“You think we’ll ever beat them?” Grian whispered after another tough nationals, watching Scar doing a perfect spin while carrying Lizzie.
Mumbo tightened his gloves. “We’ll get there. Maybe not today…but someday.”
“Someday feels like forever…” Grian muttered, feeling irritated.
“Then we’ll make it shorter. We just have to keep going.” Mumbo nudged him.
Years flew by early mornings, training, and constant practice. The ice sometimes felt like a heavy weight, but Grian never lost his love for it. Even through aching muscles, a few hard losses, a handful of wins, and Scar taking first place again and again, his passion is never gone.
At twenty, Grian stood at the edge of the rink, his heart pounding. Nationals had finally arrived, and he felt ready. Mumbo gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, silently promising they’d give it their all.
“You’ve got this. We’ve got this,” Mumbo whispered. “Just follow my lead.”
“And if I fall?” Grian asked, nerves showing.
“I’ll catch you,” Mumbo said with a confident smile. “You know that.”
Grian smiled, a mix of excitement and nerves, but the nervousness was small with Mumbo by his side, his best friend.
The previous pairs, Pearl and Gem had finished their performance with a decent but high score that put them in second place, and now it was their turn.
Grian took a deep breath as the announcer called their names. Holding Mumbo’s hand, he skated onto the rink. He saw the crowd, as usual, and glanced at the other pairs, his rival Scar and his sister Lizzie caught his eye but he quickly looked away to focus on Mumbo.
The music started to rise, familiar and comforting. Grian glided forward with smooth, powerful strokes. The dance flowed naturally with spins tight, footwork precise, and every movement in sync with Mumbo.
The crowd faded into nothing as muscle memory took over. And then came the throw jump.
Grian trusted Mumbo completely. He always had.
Mumbo lifted Grian and launched him into the air, the world spinning in a blur of lights and sound but then something went wrong. His rotation faltered. His body twisted too fast, too sharp. As he flew, Mumbo accidentally slipped on the ice, throwing off their timing.
Grian hit the ice hard without landing properly, pain exploded through his shoulder, feeling overwhelming and knocking the breath from his lungs. It made it hard for him to breathe, while the pain tore through his body. He felt…his shoulder snap.
Mumbo skated to him immediately. “Grian! Talk to me! Are you okay?”
“I… I don’t—” Grian gasped, unable to move his arm.
Officials rushed forward. Scar eyes tracked the scene from across the rink, but for a moment, something flickered with concern and worry before he turned back to Lizzie. The world spun around Grian as pain and disbelief collided.
Before the emergency team could reach him, Grian passed out, overwhelmed by intense pain and shock as they tried to take him away.
Grian’s eyes fluttered open to the harsh white lights of the hospital room, realizing where he was. The sterile smell made his stomach twist, and panic surged through him. The voices around him were calm, measured, and professional but all he could catch were fragments from serious injury, recovery time and not safe to skate.
His shoulder throbbed beneath the heavy sling and bandages, every movement sending a sharp jolt of pain through his body. His body felt drained, every muscle screaming, and his chest ached with a hollow emptiness.
He remembered flashes of the ice, Mumbo, the fall and then the surgery. It was done. Grian had been operated on. But the reality of being immobile, vulnerable, and sidelined hit him like a punch. Grian hand clutched the hospital sheets as a wave of panic closed around his chest, and tears began to fall.
Nationals had ended without him. So had everything else he had been working for.
Grian buried his face in the pillow, his body trembling from pain and frustration. The silence of the hospital room pressed down on him, broken only by the faint beeping of machines and the distant footsteps in the hallway.
He hated feeling powerless, hated the thought of losing everything he had trained for, the countless hours on the ice, the competitions, the victories…all slipping away while he lay here.
A soft knock at the door made him flinch. Mumbo stepped in, eyes carefully holding concern without overstepping. “Grian…” he started, his voice hesitant. “Hey…you’re awake.”
Grian didn’t respond at first. He just curled tighter, unwilling to face anyone or the truth.
Mumbo took a cautious step closer, his own hands fidgeting nervously. “I…I’m so sorry about the fall,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean…I never wanted—”
“I know,” Grian interrupted, his voice raw, cracking with emotion. “I know it wasn’t your fault.” But even as he said it, the hollow ache in his chest didn’t fade. He had to face the fact that his season, maybe even his career, was paused….maybe forever.
Mumbo moved closer and gently placed a hand on Grian’s shoulder, careful not to push it. “We’ll figure this out.” he said softly. “Recovery comes first. Nationals…we’ll have other chances. I promise.”
Grian let out a shaky breath, the sting of tears still fresh. He wanted to believe Mumbo, he wanted to feel hope but all he could feel now was the unbearable emptiness of what he lost.
Yet, somewhere deep inside. He wasn’t done. Not yet.