Work Text:
Milan-Cortina. This was the moment that Charles has been working towards all of his life. Every practice, every competition, every jump and every twist he had done in his life had come down to this one moment. Winning the World Championship was great but this was the award that mattered the most to him. The one that would etch his name into history. The first Monegasque to win an Olympic Gold Medal.
His short program was flawless leading the judges to rank him first. Now, he just needed to nail his free program then he would have a very good chance at winning it all. One more skate to be on the top step of the podium. He could almost picture his father’s reaction, how proud he would have been of Charles when he finally reached the goal that he toiled day and night to grasp. To finally fulfill the promise that was made on that faithful day by his hospital bed. All Charles had to do was give one stellar performance.
The night continued and his fellow skaters performed their programs until it came down to the final six. Each of their names were announced to the audience as they were given one last warm up session. Charles had a dark red sequined top, made to shine under the stadium lights with a low v-neck, showing off his neck and a part of his chest. Combined with black gloves and black pants. He took a deep breath as he skated, doing a couple quick jumps to get used to the ice underneath him. Then another to keep the nerves down. Only five more to go before his turn to shine. He got this.
What ensued in the moments after could only be described as a slow moving train wreck. George Russell, who was usually clean, had an incredibly bad fall in his first quad and an uncharacteristic stumble after his second. Impressively, he kept his composure and finished his program but his body language was clear that he knew that he had messed his chance up.
Ollie following afterwards had delivered the best skate of his career. It was not as technically difficult as Charles or Yuki’s programs but he had still nailed his jumps and his mesmerizing skating still enraptured the audience. He had them at a silence, taking their hearts as he glided through the ice to the haunting violin soundtrack echoing throughout the stadium. When he finished, the crowd burst into applause, throwing flowers onto ice as joy radiated on Ollie’s face. His exhaustion clear as he bowed to the audience.
Charles paced back and forth down the hallway as Ollie was seated with his coaches nervously awaiting his score. He thought the younger boy’s skate deserved provisional first place. It was the best he had seen from him all season and came at the right time. Unsurprisingly, the score announced was a personal best and combined with the short program, Oliver scored his season best. Charles grinned proudly while Ollie looked shocked as though he couldn’t believe what he had just done out there.
However Oliver’s phenomenal skate was the highlight of the night, because chaos ensued afterwards. Kimi’s night in front of his home town crowd was an absolute disaster, he also fell out of his opening jump. His butt hitting the ice as he scrambled to correct it and move on to the next element which he wobbled on but atleast he kept his balance. Sadly, the mistakes compounded resulting in errors even in his step sequences but with every successful jump, the crowd clapped in an effort to encourage him. Kimi looked like he wanted to break down and cry but held a brave face as he bowed to his countrymen. The Italian stands roared in solidarity, as if trying to convey that they were with him even if he might not be able to earn a medal tonight.
Pierre’s skate went better but it still was not great, the demon that seemingly possessed the ice struck again. Charles’ heart went out to his best friend, who never outright fell down, still stumbled out of two of his planned quads and his spins were not at the level that they should have been. Anxiety seeped through him, a chill running through his system, his heart feeling like it was in his throat. If Pierre Gasly could not keep his composure out there in one of the most critical moments of his life then how would Charles hold up? What if he forgot even his most basic jumps? He clutched his arms, holding himself tightly and taking deep breaths while closing his eyes and running through his routine in his mind. It was a calming technique that usually worked well but helpless in the face of the most important night of his life.
The time of reckoning drew ever near when it was Yuki’s turn to take the ice and Charles watched from the doorway as he waited for his turn. Yuki was an incredible skater, on his best day he could score better than Charles but tonight was not his best day. He watched in horror as Yuki stumbled on jumps he would normally nail and while his skating remained exquisite, his mistakes were apparent even to the common eye. It was not a gold medal worthy performance which meant all Charles had to do was make it through his program without falling and the gold medal would be his.
The score was announced and Yuki did his best to keep a composed smile for the cameras while the distinct ‘2’ was by his name on the display. While he was guaranteed a medal, he would not come away with the one he sought after the most which left the door wide open for Charles. It should have been comforting for him but all he could feel as he stepped out onto the ice was his own jittery limbs.
“Charles.” His coach, Bryan, calls over to him, holding out both his hands and Charles grasps them. “I know it’s a big night but think of it as any other competition. You know your routine better than everybody else, just give them a show ok?”
Charles nods, trying his best to take his coach’s words to heart as he takes his position at the center of the ice, looking up at the daunting crowd as the first notes of ‘Time to Say Goodbye’ by Bocelli and Brightman filled the air. The skate itself was a tribute to his late father, meant to show the struggle that Charles had overcome. When he started skating he felt like he could make it through this but as soon as he started his first jump, opening with a quad Lutz, he could feel that he did something wrong. He wasn’t able to get the height he needed and thus landed awkwardly, while using his hand to keep his balance to prevent himself from completely falling and hearing the ‘ooooohs’ through the crowd at his mistake.
From there panic really set in, the program he had meticulously designed, practiced and performed all season long had fallen away from him. He could feel the errors in his performance leading him to doubt his ability to even pull off his remaining quads. It was, without exaggeration, the worst skate of his life. There was no element that he truly felt like he did well in. His mind was frozen, his body was not reacting as though it was his own. He could not pull the audience in, entrance them, make them feel his performance. At the end his skate barely felt Olympic worthy, much less gold medal worthy. He kept himself collected as he took a bow even though he wanted to get out of this arena as soon as possible.
His body still numb as he put his skate guards on after he stepped off the ice. Bryan hugs him and tries to offer reassuring words while somebody else slips his nation’s jacket back on him. All Charles could think was about how he disappointed not only his nation but also his family. He had squandered the opportunity in front of the whole world and that is all he would be remembered for. The boy who couldn’t live up to the pressure and crumbled in the moment it mattered most.
He sat at the Kiss and Cry, usually he dreaded hearing his score but tonight he knew what he did out there was not enough to even earn him bronze. Bryan’s arm never left his shoulder, even he didn’t know what to say as Charles was proven right. Oliver Bearman was the 2026 Men’s single skating winner while Charles had missed out on the podium.
When Charles came by Ollie, the younger boy looked at him speechless. Guilt twisting his features, as though he still couldn’t believe what had just transpired and all Charles could do in that moment is hug Ollie tightly. “Congratulations, you deserved it.” He whispered as he let go, nodding before trying to make his escape.
Unfortunately he still had media obligations, the vultures tried to scavenge for weakness while he gave a routine answer about how he was proud of Ollie and how disappointed he was of himself. How he needed to be better next time, come back stronger. It felt like a joke. There might not even be a next time. Four years was an extremely long time in the world of figure skating, there was no guarantee he would even be able to compete. Charles felt sick at the realization that he may have squandered his only opportunity.
Thankfully Bryan came to his rescue, telling the reporters that Charles needed to rest while gently escorting him away from the cameras and microphones. When they were alone, Charles allows his composure to fall. Tears gathered in his eyes as he looked up at his coach.
“I’m sorry, I should have… I don’t know what happened out there but-“ his voice chocked as he swallowed a sob, Bryan looking at him with kind, understanding eyes as he waited for Charles to finish.
“I let everyone down today. You, my father, my country. I understand if you want to drop me. Find a better student, someone who won’t fall apart when the pressure is too high.”
“Charles, I’m not dropping you just because of tonight.” Bryan replied softly.
“You are still the most talented student I have coached and one night does not change that. There might be no medal, but you are still an Olympian, no one can take that from you and I will always be proud of you. The pressure might have gotten to you today but that is the nature of Olympic ice, it’s a different beast and you’re only human. It is my fault for not being able to properly prepare you.” He hugged Charles once again, holding him tightly as Charles squirmed. He tried to protest about how it wasn’t Bryan’s fault, it was all his own but his coach just smiled sadly as he ruffled Charles’ hair.
“Get some rest tonight, ok Charles? We can go over everything another day. Just let me know when you’ve made it to your room.”
Charles just nods, as he blinks away tears. Not quite ready to fully break down yet, even in front of Bryan. His coach looks at him with concern, “You will be ok? I know it was a tough night but I will always believe in you.”
Charles did not know what to say to that. He was expecting some reprimand, affirmations about what a failure he was, that he did not do his best; not this unshakeable belief, this pride that he was undeserving of. So he just nods, offering Bryan a wobbly smile trying his best to convey his gratitude at the unrelenting acceptance at the time that he needed it most. In spite of that though, he still needed to escape. All he wanted was the solitude of his room so he could break down in private.
Finally, when he was back in his room at the Olympic village out of his skate wear, he allowed himself to fall apart. He slumped to the floor and curled up with his head on his knees and just completely broke down. It started with tears escaping, the quiet sobs building up until he found himself unable to stop. The floodgates had opened and there was no end. Every emotion he had kept stuffed after finishing his program welled out in the form of choked cries and ugly tears.
Since he was a child, he was hailed as a skating prodigy. That reverence had followed throughout his life as he grew up, winning local competitions to the international ones. Throughout it all, he had unconditional support. Especially from his father who had recognized the talent his son had as soon as he stepped out on the ice rink of Ranier III. The funds, the coaching, the workouts, the diet, the practice, the sleepless nights. It was all for one moment that went up in flames. Maybe it would have been different if he put his all out there but he did not. He did not even put out a fraction of his best, he let the pressure win and now every sacrifice he made was in vain. All that was left was grieving in a room by himself.
Charles’ downward spiral was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. Confused, he opened the door a bit just to see who it was despite his blotchy appearance: tear stained tracks down his cheeks, his eyes red-rimmed and his nose was snot filled. Surprisingly, on the other side was the renowned Dutch speed skater, Max Verstappen.
Charles and Max hooked up a few times during the week, it started when Charles was the only person in his delegation so he was assigned a room of his own that happened to be close to the Dutch delegation. Both of them had pressure to work off, found each other attractive and began their fling. Charles had figured it was just casual sex, they were both in skating disciplines and used each other to decompress. It was never anything more than that.
So when Max had shown up at his doorstep on what was one of the worst nights in his life, he just gave the blond an unimpressed look. “I’m not in the mood right now, Max.”
Max nodded, “I’m not here for that. Honestly, I just wanted to check in with you and I brought some contraband.” He holds up a bottle of whiskey, small enough to fit inside his pocket. “But if you want me to leave then I’ll leave.”
Charles stood there, leaning against the door. If it was anybody else, he would have politely refused and continued to wallow in misery but Max had experienced bitter disappointment before, four years ago. He used it to come back with a vengeance this year, taking gold in the 1000m and was a favorite in the 500. More than that Max’s presence had been able to calm the storm in his mind and Charles desperately needed that.
“Come in, before anyone catches you breaking the rules.” He said with a small smile, stepping aside as Max walked in. He hands Charles the bottle who proceeds to open it and take a large swig, savoring the burn in his throat. Alcohol was banned in the village but Charles had finished his event and there was nothing more they could do to him that was worse than what he did to himself today.
“You’re not going to make me talk about it, are you?” Charles questioned, his eyes stinging as a fresh wave of tears started to well up again.
“Fuck no, I just did not want you to be alone right now.” Max said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Charles sighs and sits next to him, taking another sip before setting the bottle down on the floor. “I fucked up badly. So much for being the best figure skater in the world right?” He let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob.
Max wraps his arm around Charles’ waist pulling him closer and giving him a small kiss on his head. “You’re still the best figure skater in the world, one night doesn’t change it.”
“Of course it does Max. Don’t be obtuse, I can’t be the best if I don’t even have a fucking medal.”
Max hums, “Charles, you’re talented. Those skills did not go away after one bad night. You might not be a medalist today but that doesn’t mean you will never be one.”
“The next one is four years away, a lot can happen between now and then. I will be older while the next prodigy comes along.” Charles states grimly, looking down at the small bottle in his hand. Figure skating was a brutal sport, it was a young man’s game. He would be 24 when the next Olympics rolls around and there was always the chance he could injure himself before then.
Max gently cups Charles’ cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears as he makes eye contact. His expression is softer than Charles has ever seen.
“Yes, a lot can happen in four years. You will get better, hone your skill and show the world what you are capable of. There’s a reason people travel to watch you skate, you know. You’re captivating, you make people pay attention, you pull on their emotions.”
Charles’ face scrunches in disbelief. “I didn’t captivate shit tonight. I was fucking terrible, Max.”
Max shrugs, “You still captivated me.”
“Don’t lie to me, especially not now.”
“I’m not lying.” Max insisted. “Yes, you fell and I have seen you do better before. But that does not mean you weren’t captivating. I watched you fall, get up and still try and skate your best. You didn’t give up, you kept your composure and still smiled and bowed to audience in spite of it.”
“So did everybody else, that doesn’t make me special. I was garbage, I didn’t perform at a high level.”
Max hugs Charles, pulling the Monegasque against his chest. “You were not garbage Charlie. Yes, you were not at your best but it was not garbage. I can’t explain why I was drawn to it but I was.”
Charles closed his eyes and laid his head on Max’s shoulder. “You need to get better taste.”
Max smiled as he ran his fingers through Charles’ hair. “I’d like to think I have perfect taste.”
“You do if you still liked that.”
“I can live with that. If I liked your bad skates then just imagine what I think about your best ones.”
“And what if I never have a good skate again?” Charles asked as he extracted himself from Max, distress in his voice as he stared into the Dutchman’s ice blue eyes.
“Charles, I just said you’re one of the best. That hasn’t changed tonight, it won’t change during your next competition. Most of all, I know you’ll never give up. You will still be here in four years, skating your heart out, giving them the best performance ever.” Max said, never taking his eyes off Charles.
He pushes Max down onto the bed then lies down next to him. Charles pushes himself closer to Max as Max wraps his arm around Charles again.
“And you will come to watch?” Charles questioned as he looks up into Max’s eyes. Max leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Of course I will.”
Charles closes his eyes, laying his head against Max’s chest. He didn’t feel better, the ache of the loss still weighed heavily on him. But it no longer felt like the end of the world either. He would go to sleep and wake up in the morning in Max’s arms then cheer him on as he competes for another gold. The next day, Max will still be here and life will continue.
More importantly, he’ll be back for the Olympics in France and he will bring Monaco its first gold medal.