Chapter Text
May 2017
Shane knew this would be his season ever since he debuted as a senior. Granted, that was only three years prior, but it seemed like a lifetime ago. He’d been 17 then, mapping out his whole life to ensure he’d get to where he needed to be as soon as possible. If everything went according to plan, he’d be the top men’s figure skater in the world in just 1,095 days. It was a big if, but to Shane, there was no alternative.
It hadn’t been easy, of course. He’d been training harder than ever, often to the point of exhaustion. Off the ice, he’d spent hours studying other skaters and formulating his own on-ice persona. As a junior, he lived, breathed, and bled for skating, but it was nothing compared to the last three years. It had been intense, but given that he barely had a social life to begin with, there hadn’t been too many sacrifices. Most of his friends were skaters, and his mom was his coach. Skating was his life, full stop, period.
There were other factors that made this season in particular ideal. Shane had ridden into his senior career on the coattails of some massive skating legends, most of whom were set to retire sooner than later. When Canada’s top men’s skater announced his retirement plans in the winter, Shane had nearly cried with excitement. It was awful to celebrate another skater’s career ending, especially one he admired, but he couldn’t help it. He was ready to step out of his shadow. He’d been waiting for it his entire life.
The final and most important reason why this was Shane’s season was that, right now, he was the best he’d ever been. He was technically proficient, handing in consistently clean skates across all competitions. His programs were creative and well put together, showcasing his range as a skater. While there were always other talented skaters to contend with, he was certain none of them wanted to win as much as he did. He made sure his marks reflected that.
Commentators had called Shane "the future of figure skating" for as long as he could remember, and he was desperate to prove that the future was now. He’d given his entire life to the sport, all in the pursuit of one perfect season. He’d waited for it long enough. It was time for his hard work to pay off. Nothing, and no one, could stand in his way.
Shane arrived at practice, as he always did, two hours early. He knew it was overkill, but he enjoyed having some quiet time before he put on his skates. He mostly used it to stretch or practice choreography, all while visualizing how he wanted his performance to be. Occasionally, he’d watch the other skaters and make notes as though he were a judge. It always amazed those who asked, but Shane never got tired of skating. He wasn’t sure it was possible for him.
Feeling well-stretched, Shane entered the arena where Rose Landry was practicing her new short program. Though she originally hailed from Michigan, she had lived and trained in Montreal for five years. She and Shane had been roommates for two of them. They had practically grown up together, both coached by Shane’s mother and 2x World Champion Yuna Hollander. Despite their occasional banter over Team Canada vs. Team USA, Rose was one of Shane’s closest friends. Admittedly, she was one of his only friends.
This season, in what was potentially her biggest creative risk yet, Rose was skating to the alt-rock anthem “Violet” by Hole. She had always been outspoken about the backwards gender dynamics of figure skating, especially for women. There was an expectation that skaters needed to be soft and feminine without room for experimentation, even as seniors. Though she knew it could polarize judges, Rose was constantly pushing the envelope when it came to her programs and what she could get away with. It didn't always work out at competitions, but her fans loved it.
Shane truly envied Rose’s ability not to care about mixed reactions. He learned early on that being the best meant going along with what the judges felt was best, and he wasn’t ready to risk that. That didn’t mean his skates were boring. On the contrary, he did what he could to stand out from the crowd, but it was never so much as to upset anyone. He certainly wasn’t like Rose, who’d recently been musing about adding a backflip to her routine.
He also envied Rose’s ability to portray the emotions of her programs. Even during practice, she looked ready to kill someone. Shane’s biggest struggle as a skater was his acting, or, as numerous commentators had put it, his ability to “open up to audiences." While he could nail every element consistently, he’d heard multiple times that his performances of love and sorrow were less than believable. The only thing keeping him from attending acting classes was his pride and the steadfast belief that his skating prowess would make up for the rest. So far, it had.
Rose finished her skate with a triumphant roar before collapsing back onto the ice. Shane couldn’t blame her. The program was intense.
“You have to hold the final pose longer, Rose,” his mother called from behind the boards. “It kills the momentum.”
“I know,” Rose panted, still on her back. “I won’t during competition. Right now I just need, like, ten minutes.”
“I can skate around you,” Shane called to her. Without looking up, she shot him a thumbs-up.
“Hi, honey,” his mom greeted, giving him a quick hug before turning back to her phone. “I just have a few phone calls to make, but I’ll be back soon. See you later, Rose.”
“Love you, Yuna,” Rose called back, sitting up to wave goodbye. Once his mom was gone, she turned her attention to Shane. “I’m her favourite, you know.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“Don’t be sarcastic, Hollander. It’s not cute on you.” She stood and skated up to the boards, pinching his left cheek. “But everything else is.”
Shane playfully batted her hand away. “I’m not cute.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” she said, grabbing her guards and leaving the ice. “How long have you been here?”
“Since 9.”
“Oh, fuck you. I hate morning people.”
“Then why do you always practice in the morning?”
“I’m trying to teach myself discipline,” she groaned, collapsing onto a bench. “It’s not working.”
God, Shane loved her. Rose had an uncanny ability to put him at ease, even when his mind was racing a million miles an hour. She was effortlessly charming, making it impossible not to love her. There had been a time when Shane had been dead-set on falling in love with her. Unfortunately, they both figured out pretty quickly that wasn’t in the cards. That didn’t mean he loved her any less.
He sat down beside Rose and started putting on his own skates. As he bent over, he felt her rest her body on his back like a makeshift pillow.
“Mind if I stick around for a bit? I’m worried that if I try driving home, I’ll end up on the news.”
“No problem,” Shane laughed, letting her rest despite the uncomfortable angle. “You should get a coffee.”
“I’ve already had two. It has no effect on me.”
“Wow. You really aren’t a morning person.”
“Not at all,” she sighed, sitting back up and looking out at the ice. “The choreography isn’t helping either.”
“You don’t like it?”
“I love it. It’s just so fucking fast.”
Shane laughed at the way she sank against the wall. “I get that. I don’t think I could do such an intense program.”
“Only because you need everything to be perfect. That’s hard when you go so fast.”
Shane shrugged defensively. “I like to skate clean.”
“You like to be perfect. And there’s nothing wrong with that, especially in this sport. You just need to loosen up a bit.” She shimmied her shoulders to demonstrate what she meant. “Get all loosey goosey.”
“I don’t think I want to be loosey or goosey.”
“Of course not,” Rose huffed, falling back against the wall. “You know, one day I want to see you get lost in it. Like, I want to see you skate completely free.”
“Free of what?”
She tapped his temple with a soft smile. “This.”
Shane didn’t reply, turning his focus back to his skates. He knew some skaters claimed their minds went blank on the ice, but Shane was pretty sure they were lying. How was it possible not to think about what came next and how to get there? He knew it sometimes appeared on his face, but he couldn’t help it. Skating was just as mental as it was physical. Beside him, Rose was watching with furrowed brows. That was never a good sign. “What?”
She shifted where she sat, suddenly very interested in her skates. “Did you hear about Ilya?”
Shane nearly cut his hand on the blade. That was the last name he was expecting to hear. “Rozanov?”
“Yeah.”
Several scenarios flashed through Shane’s mind. Was he in jail? Was he in a plane crash? Had he finally pissed someone off so bad that he got murdered? Whatever it was, judging by Rose’s face, it couldn’t be good. “What about him?”
“He’s coming back from his break. This season.”
Okay. So maybe there was one person who could stand in his way.