Chapter Text
The first time Phainon and Mydei claimed gold side by side seventeen years ago, Phainon knew he could never settle for second place.
It was a small, local competition, one that held no real merit. Just an opportunity to see if anything would come of their partnership. He had only started skating with Mydei that year, paired together after the coaches had seen their potential.
Phainon’s mother says their performance was flawless, but she says that about almost all his programs. This time though, it truly had felt perfect. He remembers the pure elation that filled his body the moment he stepped off the ice. Even as he sat next to Mydei in the kiss and cry, anxiously awaiting their results, the adrenaline hadn't melted away. His heart was still pounding when he grabbed Mydei’s hand, squeezing it tightly as the announcer delivered their scores. There was a slight pause before cheers rang in his ears along with the words “first place”. Phainon could never forget how his head snapped to his right to look at Mydei, who stared back at him, eyes wide with shock.
The medal ceremony followed soon after. Phainon buzzed with excitement as he stepped onto the podium, Mydei hot on his heels. Bronze, then silver medals were presented to their competitors and when it came their turn, Phainon smiled widely as they hung it around his neck. To him, it was everything.
After a flurry of photos, Phainon held his medal up, admiring the way it shimmered in the light. He glanced at Mydei, curious to see his partner’s reaction.
Mydei was staring down at his medal, cradling it in his small, small hands. His touch was gentle, as though one wrong move would shatter it into a million pieces. There was a look of disbelief and amazement in his amber eyes, one that took Phainon’s breath away.
Phainon’s heart fluttered in his chest. All of the sudden his knees felt weak, and his mouth had gone dry.
“Phainon,” Mydei said, a bit breathless, still gazing at the medal. “I want to keep winning gold.” He pauses. “With you.”
That moment lit a hunger in Phainon that he hasn’t been able to satisfy. Competition after competition, season after season. Every step onto the centre of the podium, every gold medal they secure, only fuels him. But it’s never quite enough.
He hopes it stays that way forever.
✧
“Pick up the pace!” Phainon’s coach, Caenis, roars from the sidelines. “Get in sync, you two!”
Phainon’s chest heaves as he transitions into waltz position, still breathless from the first rotational lift. He holds Mydei’s shoulder blade in one hand and intertwines their fingers in the other. They fly through the footwork with ease: three-turn, crosscut, step, three-turn again.
“Leg up, Phainon!” Caenis snaps, her harsh voice booming through the empty arena. “Get into that lift already, you’re late!”
He grits his teeth, forcing his mouth into a rough smile. His calves ache from hours of practice, sharp pain stabbing through his legs. Still, he lifts his free leg up just a bit more at the end of his three-turn. Gliding backwards, Phainon bends down just as Mydei turns to face him again and leaps into his arms. Phainon grabs under Mydei’s leg and holds his waist before hoisting him up onto his shoulder. He begins to spin, keeping his grip tight as Mydei sits on his shoulder before changing his weight to swing into the next position. In an instant, Phainon’s hold changes as he carefully swings Mydei around so he’s laying across his shoulder for the position change. His arm flies out to support Mydei’s body, and with him secured, Phainon spins even faster. A few more rotations and finally, he sets Mydei down as they step into their next footwork section.
Just as Phainon grabs Mydei’s waist, ready to lift him before moving into their diagonal step sequence, the music comes to a sudden halt.
“That’s enough.” Caenis is already packing her things up by the time the two skate over to the boards, awaiting her feedback.
“You need to get that free leg up,” Caenis says, pointing a finger at Phainon. “You’d be lucky to even place in the top five with those extensions. And you,” she hisses, swiveling to look at Mydei, “need to work on that transition in the lift. I said gracefully, not like a sack of potatoes being thrown around.”
Caenis pulls her bag over her shoulder, still scowling at them.
“You’re dismissed. Don’t be late for your flight,” she says, turning on her heel and walking away.
Phainon sighs as he skates over to the exit, stepping off the ice.
“Would it kill her to say ‘good job’ for once?” he says, grabbing his water bottle. He flicks up the lid to take a long swig, the cool water refreshing against his dry throat.
“You know she would never do that,” Mydei answers. He takes a sip from his own water bottle as well before saying, “You did well out there, though.”
“Really? Didn’t feel like a sack of potatoes being thrown around in the second rotational lift?”
Mydei rolls his eyes. “Not at all. You’re always stable on lifts, I never have any issues with them.” He takes another long sip.
Phainon flushes. Seventeen years of skating together and he’s still not quite used to how confident Mydei is when complimenting him.
“We can just review the footage she sends us to see what she’s talking about,” Mydei continues as they start to head toward the changeroom, “but I think she’s just trying to find things to complain about now.”
“You’re right.” Phainon sighs as he pushes the door open and sits down roughly on the bench. His head hits the wall as he leans back, exhaling softly. “It’d be nice to hear about our strengths sometimes, though.”
Mydei makes a noise of acknowledgement as he begins to unlace his skates.
Phainon moves to undo his own, pausing as he winces slightly. “Were my leg extensions really that bad? It didn’t feel like it, but I’ve seen videos of myself where it’s lower than I felt…” he trails off, rubbing his neck sheepishly.
Mydei furrows his brows. “I don’t think so,” he says, glancing at Phainon. “They didn’t seem to be any lower than they usually are—which isn’t even low, I don’t know what Caenis is thinking, but wait until we see the video, alright? We can work on it during warm ups if it’s as bad as you think.”
Phainon nods, breathing in a sigh of relief. The tightness in his chest loosens slightly at Mydei’s reassurance. “Yeah, you’re right.” He smiles warmly. “Thanks.”
Mydei hums in response, leaning down again to finish taking his skates off.
After a few quick minutes, the two are out of the change room and walking to the parking lot. They chatter aimlessly as they walk to their cars, talking about whatever comes to mind. When they arrive at Mydei’s car, the two pause, lingering near one another.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then for our flight,” Mydei says as he opens his car door. He pauses, shooting Phainon a pointed look. “Don’t be late.”
Phainon only grins back. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Satisfied by his answer, Mydei slips into his car and quickly drives off. Phainon watches him go, standing there until Mydei’s car becomes nothing more than a dot in the distance.
✧
True to his word, Phainon is not late to his flight. In fact, he arrives several hours early, before his coaches and even Mydei who’s usually the first one at the airport. When his partner finally shows up, Phainon can’t help but tease him about being late, only to be met with a deadpan stare.
“Do you want your coffee or not?” Mydei asks, clearly not amused.
Phainon glances at the tray of coffee in his hand.
“Yes,” Mydei says before Phainon can even speak, handing him his cup. “Black with a shot of espresso, sugar on the side. Careful though, it’s hot. I waited for them to brew a fresh pot.”
Warmth coils in Phainon’s gut as he stares at the drink. He does his best to ignore the feeling; surely it’s just a result of the steam rolling off of the piping hot coffee. This isn’t anything new to get worked up about—Mydei has brought him drinks and treats before their flights for several years now—but he can't help but soften at the gesture each time.
“Thank you,” he says, taking the cup. It’s burning his fingers, but Mydei gave it to him so he doesn’t dare put it down. Phainon takes a small sip, wincing slightly as it scorches the tip of his tongue.
“No problem.” Mydei takes a seat next to him, quietly sipping his own drink.
They sit in comfortable silence as they wait for their coaches to arrive. Shortly after Caenis and Lygus enter the lounge, their flight is finally called.
As always, Phainon takes the window seat and Mydei takes the middle seat beside him. When they were younger, Mydei had been terrified of the ocean, refusing to even look at it. Phainon had offered to take the window seat, and Mydei had agreed instantly. Not much has changed since then: Mydei still avoids the sea when he can and Phainon still takes the window spot.
“Hey,” Phainon says as the airplane finally begins to take flight. “You nervous?”
Mydei crosses his arms, giving Phainon a sharp look. “We’ve flown to Belobog plenty of times. Why would I be nervous now?”
Phainon rolls his eyes. “It’s the Olympics, Mydei. We have a title to defend this time.” He pauses, looking at Mydei seriously. “It doesn’t make you nervous at all? Not even a little bit?”
Mydei has never really outright expressed fear or anxiety over their performances. Even the sports commentators have mentioned how assured he looks during competitions. Still, the Olympics are an entirely different league. Surely Mydei holds at least the slightest bit of anxiety about this competition?
“Why would I be worried?” Mydei asks as if the answer is obvious. He leans to the side, resting his head on Phainon’s shoulder. “You’re my partner.” Mydei’s voice is just above a whisper, his words for Phainon’s ears only.
“Oh,” is all Phainon can say. His face grows hot, ears burning as the words settle in. A familiar warmth curls in his stomach. How is it that Mydei always knows just what to say? His words aren’t to be taken lightly either. Mydei is horrible at lying, and over the years Phainon has come to realize whatever the man says, he means with his entire being.
Silence stretches over them as Phainon scrambles to find the right words, to assure him that he feels the same way. Nothing feels quite right. All he can do is pray that Mydei understands.
“Phainon,” Mydei murmurs, interrupting his thoughts.
Phainon stiffens in his seat. He opens his mouth to try and say something, anything, only for Mydei to cut him off.
“I know,” he says softly.
The knot in Phainon’s chest slowly unravels, relief sagging through his body. Of course he knows. Mydei has always known him better than he knows himself.
“Now rest,” Mydei orders. “We have a long flight ahead of us.”
✧
Belobog is a cold, cold city, its streets littered with more snow than people. The Administrative District is a mix of concrete and steel. Old buildings tower over the central plaza. More often than not, the sun is hidden underneath the cloudy sky, chilling the air further.
Today though, the typically quiet streets are bustling with bundled-up tourists, decked out in various pieces promoting the Olympics. Sunlight filters through the spare crowds, beaming down on the frigid city. The district is alive with constant chatter, excitement in the air.
It takes Phainon and Mydei far longer than usual to make their way through the busy crowd. When they finally arrive, Phainon can’t help but stop and stare at the area before them.
The Olympic Park is nothing short of grandiose. Grainy snippets of the various arenas and structures are overwhelming to see just in photos, but nothing can compare to seeing it in person. The modern style of the buildings clashes with the rest of Belobog’s mismatched baroque and art nouveau inspired ones. They stand out even more against the rosy sky as the sun sets in the distance behind them. The scale of them is almost impossible to believe, and despite seeing it in front of him, Phainon still can’t quite comprehend it.
“Hey,” he says suddenly. “Do you remember which building we’re skating in?”
Mydei clicks his tongue. He pauses for a moment, scanning the area before pointing at a building far in the distance. “It’s that one.”
The building Mydei is looking at is a mirage of blues, dark and light. It looks massive compared to their home rink, the curved design of the sides enhancing the wave effect.
A rush of excitement runs through Phainon’s body. This is it. This is where he and Mydei will defend their place as Olympic champions and bring home another gold medal. He can practically feel the weight of it hanging from his neck, cold metal pressed against his chest.
Phainon turns to Mydei and nudges him. “Ready to win again?”
“Don’t get so far ahead of yourself,” Mydei shoots back. “But as champions,” his lips twitch upwards into that boyish grin that Phainon adores, “we should defend our title with everything we can.”
Phainon laughs. “Spoken like a true prince,” he teases.
Mydei rolls his eyes at the nickname but his smile never leaves his face. “Come, Phainon,” he beckons. “Let’s go settle in.”
The two make their way to their section of the Olympic Village: a cluster of buildings that seem to resemble the ones found in the Administrative District. As they walk through the doors, it suddenly hits Phainon just how many people are here; athletes, coaches, and various media personnel all crowd the lobby. Thankfully, the wait to check in isn’t too long with employees working swiftly as they hand over their IDs and competitor badges.
“Here you are,” the employee says, handing them their room cards. “You guys are in room 2691. I hope you enjoy your stay, and good luck in your event!”
“Thank you,” the two men chorus, each grabbing their key cards. They make their way down the hall, the clacking sound of their suitcases rolling along the tiled floors filling the silence. After a few minutes of walking, they finally arrive at their room.
Mydei swipes his card and pushes the door open. The room is rather small for two people, but the light wooden flooring and large window that looks out at the rest of the Olympic Park makes it seem larger than it is. It’s rather cute and well decorated for the space given. There’s a desk, an ensuite bathroom, and—
“Holy shit,” Phainon breathes. One moment he’s standing in the doorway and the next he’s face down on the king sized bed, sighing happily as he sinks into the mattress.
“Mydei, I think they made the bed even better,” he says, face smushed into the duvet.
Mydei snorts a laugh as he pulls their luggage in. “That’s your biggest concern?”
“Of course,” Phainon says. He pushes himself up and lays down on the bed properly. “How can I skate my best if I’m sleeping on cardboard? That goes for you too y’know—we’re sleeping in the same bed after all.”
Mydei rolls his eyes as he closes the door and slips off his shoes. “Move over.”
Phainon rolls to the side as Mydei carefully crawls on top of the bed and lays down beside him.
“Oh. It is better than the Amphoreus beds.”
“See! I told you so.”
They lay there for a while longer, simply basking in each other’s presence. A comfortable silence fills the air.
After a while, Phainon turns on his side only to see Mydei staring at him. His heart hammers in his chest at the intensity of Mydei’s gaze. All of the sudden, his breathing sounds a little too loud in his ears and his throat has gone dry.
“Hi,” he whispers, afraid that if he speaks any louder he’ll shatter the moment. “What are you looking at?”
Mydei’s gaze never falters. His amber eyes flicker over Phainon's face, lingering on his lips. “You,” he admits quietly.
It feels like a confession. How desperately Phainon wishes it actually was one.
“Why?”
“I’m just thinking about us. About our careers.” Mydei hesitates. “And about what comes next after this.”
Phainon stiffens. He’s never been good at talking about their future, not when what he has right now is so good. From the age of seven and onwards, Phainon’s day to day schedule has been filled with skating and competitions. Imagining a life without those things only leaves him feeling empty and hollow.
He knows it's inevitable—most skaters retire from the competitive scene by the time they’re thirty, bodies worn out from decades of performing. Even though he won’t be at that stage for a few more years, and retirement doesn’t necessarily mean leaving skating behind, Phainon can’t help but block out any thoughts on the matter. Competing with Mydei has become his life, his normal. He doesn’t know who or what he’ll be without that.
“You’ve been thinking a lot then, huh?” Phainon teases, hoping Mydei doesn’t notice the slight tremble in his voice. “Didn’t know you could do all that.”
“Haikas,” Mydei shoots back, no real bite behind it. His eyes are half lidded and his voice is just a murmur when he says, “I was thinking about our next program. Maybe we can do something that’s more intense.” He frowns. “This one is very… dainty.”
Relief washes over him.
Thank Kephale, Phainon thinks, slightly frantic, he’s only talking about next season.
Next season is only a few months ahead, already set in stone with the same set of typical competitions. Next season is manageable. He’s looking forward to it actually—one of his favourite parts of skating is learning new choreography, and with a new season usually comes a new set of programs.
Phainon laughs lightly. “It is. What, you don’t think it suits you?”
“You already know how I feel about it.”
What an understatement. Spending nearly every day with Mydei means Phainon has heard him rant about their free dance program more times than he can count. He’s not the only one with complaints though; this season’s free dance isn’t exactly Phainon’s first choice either. He’s not all that picky about the type of music they skate to, but there’s just nothing special about it. Right from the beginning it hadn’t quite resonated with them—the music mix felt like two different performances and the progression of movements felt utterly careless. It was a complete disaster compared to their previous programs.
If Phainon had it his way they’d be skating to an entirely different song, but when Caenis had shown them the music months ago, she had barely let them get a word in before starting them on the choreography she had come up with. Despite all the issues, they’ve managed to at least somewhat shift the program to something more suited towards their style. Anything is better than the bland footwork and movements Caenis gave them. Suggesting a slightly different pose for their lift, or hinting at a different sequence of steps in their footwork, he and Mydei have done their best to enhance their elements. Ice dance is an art after all, and Phainon refuses to give the audience a lacklustre performance. Still, he wishes he could've done more to fix the program.
“Yeah, I know,” Phainon says, sighing. “You’re not alone on that, but you’ve already heard all my complaints. Guess we’ll just have to tell Caenis to make the next one more intense, huh? I know you miss the tango compulsory dances, maybe we can get her to choreograph something like that.”
“That would be nice.” Mydei hums softly before looking at him once more, smiling ever so slightly. His expression is warm, filled with an adoration that makes Phainon’s heart ache in his chest. “What about you? What do you want, Phainon?”
Phainon pauses, hesitant. Even though he has his preferences, he’s never particularly cared what style they do because at the end of the day, he’s skating with Mydei. Soft and elegant programs, bold and passionate ones, it doesn’t matter to him in the end as long as his partner is at his side.
“I don’t know,” he admits as he reaches out to fiddle with Mydei’s braid. It’s soft to the touch. “I just want to keep skating with you.”
Mydei makes a noise of satisfaction. “Me too,” he says quietly. His eyes flutter shut. “If it’s with you then it’s fine.”
Phainon’s heart pounds in his chest so loudly he’s almost certain Mydei can hear it. They’ve always been on the same page about their career—they’ll skate together, or not at all—but Mydei’s words have always soothed the small insecurities and anxiety that eats away at him from time to time.
Silence settles over them as they lay there, side by side. After a few seconds, Phainon carefully gets up to get ready for bed while Mydei continues resting. When he enters the room after brushing his teeth, washing his face, and forcing his heart to calm down, Mydei is still in the same position.
Phainon glances at the clock and winces at the time. “Mydei,” he whispers, gently shaking him. “You should brush your teeth. C’mon, I know you’ll be mad in the morning if you don’t do it.”
Mydei grumbles, face scrunching up as he swats Phainon’s hand away. After a few seconds of Phainon’s incessant shaking he finally rolls out of bed, slowly but surely moving towards the washroom. While he takes his time getting ready, Phainon slips under the covers, settling into his side of the bed. Mydei comes back not long after, still obviously tired. He crawls into bed, pulling the duvet over himself.
“Night, Mydei,” Phainon says as he turns off the light, plunging the room into darkness.
A few seconds pass before he hears some shuffling, and then, “Phainon,” in that tone that can only mean one thing.
Phainon turns on his side to look at Mydei who stares back at him expectantly. He knows that look all too well. A smile tugs at his lips and he reaches over, pulling Mydei closer. They lay side by side, so close their noses are practically touching. Phainon can feel Mydei’s breath on his cheeks. He wraps his arm loosely around Mydei’s waist, hand resting against his lower back.
“You could just ask, y’know,” Phainon teases. “We’ve been doing this for years, but you always just say my name and expect me to know what you’re talking about.”
At some point in their career, they had started sleeping in the same bed while traveling for competitions. A way to save money, they had agreed, and simply a thing of convenience. Nothing more, nothing less. Skating was expensive as is, and it relieved their anxious mothers that the cost was lower and they’d be together. Somewhere along the way sleeping in the same bed turned into sleeping pressed against one another, arms and legs intertwined. Since then, it’s become their usual to sleep in the same room, in the same bed, waking up a mess of tangled limbs.
Mydei rolls his eyes. “I don’t need to ask. You always know what I mean even if I don’t say it.”
Phainon opens his mouth to retort, and snaps his mouth shut. He’s not wrong. Mydei’s expressions and the tone of his voice are usually enough for him to infer from. The faintest twitch of his lips or slightest raise of a brow tells him all he needs to know. People say Mydei isn’t all that expressive, but they just don’t know him like Phainon does. He’s fine with keeping it that way though—call him selfish, but Phainon is more than satisfied knowing he’s the only one who understands Mydei so well.
“See? I’m right.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mydei. Now go to bed, I can’t have you sleep deprived when we’re going to be working on lifts tomorrow.”
Mydei laughs lightly. His eyes flutter shut and silence fills the room once more as his breathing eventually evens out.
Phainon lays there, staring at Mydei. His face is completely calm and just looking at him sends a rush of affection through Phainon’s heart so strong it hurts. He watches the slow rise and fall of Mydei’s chest and wants. Wants, wants, wants so badly what he cannot have. The ache in his chest does not settle.
His eyes sweep over Mydei’s figure, lingering on all of his favourite parts: the sharp slope of his nose, the slight curve of his lashes, the undeniable strength of his body. Mydei’s face looks like it was sculpted with love, his body carved to perfection. Even while sleeping he looks radiant as ever. Phainon’s gaze drops to his lips. Perfectly pink, slightly dry from all the time they spend on the ice. His heart begins to race, face growing hot as his thoughts drift off. Visions of kissing Mydei flood his head in an instant, each one more vivid than the last.
What would it be like? Would he be sweet and gentle in a way that’s reserved for just Phainon? Or would his kisses be deep and passionate, so intense they leave him gasping for air? Phainon can practically envision the pleased smile Mydei would give him as they pulled away, only to dive in for more. Heat stirs in his stomach, warm and pleasant at the thought.
He wants it so badly it makes him feel sick. Phainon is a greedy man. He has so much already—an Olympic gold medal, a partner he knows he’ll skate with for the rest of his life—yet it’s not enough. He can’t help but want more. He can’t help but want exactly what he can’t have.
The sound of Mydei’s slow and steady breathing pulls Phainon from his thoughts. Tension drains from his body as exhaustion begins to take hold. He falls asleep staring at Mydei’s lips, listening to the thrum of his heartbeat.
✧
Phainon knows this much: over the past seventeen years, their relationship had grown into something he can’t quite name. Far past just a friendship, but not quite lovers.
Desperately, he wants it to be something more. Phainon yearns to be able to press himself against Mydei and pepper hot kisses along his jaw and down his neck. Longs to kiss him on the mouth, sweetly like he deserves. There is so much Phainon wants, yet so much he cannot have.
In the end, they are ice dancers first and foremost. Skating will not stop for them to figure out what works and what doesn’t, and it certainly won’t stop if things go south. There’s too many possibilities, too many uncertainties that run the risk of ruining their relationship for good.
So it goes like this instead: stolen glances in the changeroom when he thinks Mydei isn’t looking. A shared bed at every competition, half tradition and half selfish desires. Hands all over each other when they skate, mapping out each other’s bodies and committing it to memory.
Phainon will keep wishing he could kiss his best friend, his life partner, the person he trusts more than anything and he’ll shove that longing deep down where it can’t escape and ruin what he has now. He will settle for the small rituals they have and tell himself it’s enough.
✧
Just a few days after they arrive, they’re already performing on the ice. The team event goes by in what feels like an instant, and much to their displeasure, they place second in both the rhythm dance and the free program. With their other team members’ hard work, Amphoreus lands itself in second place, awarding them yet another Olympic medal. After the initial thrill and excitement wears off, Phainon can only feel a newly ignited sense of determination, his hunger for gold only growing as their individual event creeps closer.
“It’s only the team event,” Mydei reassures him as they lay in bed that night, his head resting upon Phainon’s chest. “We’ll do better in the individual.”
Phainon dreams that night of another gold medal hanging from his neck and the wide smile Mydei will give him when they win.
The following day the two drag themself out of bed to stretch before the sun has even risen. A quick breakfast is eaten in silence before they head out. To their delight, the rink is completely empty when they arrive. They quickly put their skates on, eager to have a chance to practice on the open ice.
“So,” Phainon says as they skate a few laps around the rink to warm up. “What do you want to run through?”
“Twizzles,” Mydei says immediately. His lips curl into a scowl and he crosses his arms. “I saw our score sheet. It was our weakest element. We can’t have that if we want to win gold again.”
Phainon sighs, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, you’re right.” He pauses, an idea popping into his head. “But before that…” A grin creeps onto his face. “What do you say we get warmed up with the usual?”
Mydei’s confused look quickly melts into understanding and his eyes light up with excitement.“You want to do a compulsory dance?”
He can't help but grin at Mydei’s enthusiasm. The compulsory dances have always been a favourite of theirs to perform. When it was removed from the competitive scene four years ago, they decided to continue to practice them as a way to maintain their skills, especially since the familiar patterns were integrated into the rhythm dance. Now, it's become a part of their usual warm up routine, already ingrained in their memory from years and years of training.
“Yeah, just pick one of them,” Phainon says. “I’ve got the music for almost all of them downloaded. We can just play it on my phone, it's not like anyone else is here.”
Mydei ponders for a moment. “How about the quickstep?” he suggests.
Not a bad choice, Phainon thinks, already scrolling through his phone to find the song. The music and steps are a lot faster than their routine is, but it’s a classic and good option for their warm up.
“Sure, let's go with that one. I hope you still remember the pattern.”
Mydei scoffs, crossing his arms. “We drilled the compulsory dances for years. As if I could forget.”
Phainon sets his phone on ledge of the boards, ushering Mydei to go stand in their starting spot. He queues up the song, giving him time to rush to where Mydei stands in the centre of the rink. By the time he skids to a halt, the upbeat melody has begun. Phainon grabs Mydei’s hand and right on beat, they take their first steps.
They don’t bother with the flashy opening steps that they used to do in competition. Instead, they push forward, swiftly moving into killian hold and beginning the actual patterned footwork: a chasse, crossover, and then into the swingroll.
Phainon grins as they glide along the ice in a series of quick leg pulls and even faster crosscuts. As their legs kick up and they hold their edge for a count of one—two—three—four, he can’t help but feel a rush of excitement. They skate nearly every single day, but the compulsory dances have always had a special place in his heart. Everything has to be exactly on point, in perfect time with the music. Nothing else quite satisfies his perfectionist tendencies.
He turns to look at Mydei, ready to make some dumb comment about the pattern only for his mouth to suddenly go dry.
Mydei looks absolutely angelic. There’s that wide, boyish grin on his face, the same one Phainon fell in love with years ago. A light laugh falls from his lips as they fly through the footwork, already restarting the pattern. His eyes are bright, lit up with an enthusiasm Phainon hasn’t seen in ages.
Perfection isn't enough to describe him. Titans, how did he get this lucky? To be able to witness his strength, to simply bask in his radiance each day is more than Phainon could ask for.
Please, Kephale, he thinks helplessly, unable to tear his eyes away as his heart thumps loudly in his chest, let me have this for just a little while longer.
They skate through the dance for another lap and a half, perfectly in sync. Each movement comes with ease, muscle memory guiding them well. Their laughs mingle with the cheery rhythm and before they know it, the song finally comes to a close.
The two continue to glide around the rink, still attached at the hip even as Phainon’s phone moves onto the next song. His hand remains on Mydei’s waist.
“That was a good warmup,” Mydei says, slightly out of breath.
Phainon makes a noise of acknowledgement, resting his chin on Mydei’s shoulder. He drapes his arms over Mydei’s shoulders, slumping over his back as they drift across the ice. “It was. I’m tired now. Do we really have to practice our twizzles?”
“Do you want that gold medal or not?”
Phainon sighs. He pulls himself off of Mydei and skates beside him, holding his hand out to him. “Well,” he says with a grin. “I guess we better get started then.”