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As the final stone slid into the house, knocking the Swedish stone from its place dead center, the Canadian crowd roars as the Swedish crowd settles into their seats. Graciously, but dejectedly accepting their loss. Well, most do. Save for one of the athletes themselves.
Ueshima Souta, who moved to Sweden with his family in his youth, was still steaming about the loss even as he shook the Canadian team's hands, gathered his jacket, and headed to his coaches for their after match talk. Souta was almost calm enough to add to the conversation, when he looked over and saw Canada's Iseya Nao smirking at him. That look had Souta boiling once again. Also an expat from Japan, Iseya Nao was the most infuriating person Souta had ever come across in international play.
Souta wasn't an angry person, though he was easy to rile up. And it seemed like Iseya always knew exactly what to say to piss him off. For only meeting on the ice for matches every few years, they always seemed to cross each other’s paths. And Iseya took advantage of that each and every time. Souta glared at him, hoping his silent wishes for Iseya to trip as he left the arena would come to pass. No such luck unfortunately. Iseya, smooth as always, sailed from the arena back toward his team bus and Souta assumed the Olympic village to rest for his next match.
Good, Souta thought, asked his team finished gathering their stuff then headed out the same way. The sooner he's out of my sight, the better.
Souta was still pissed over those last few minutes of the match. He knew Iseya Nao had touched the stone illegally. Loss or not it was about the game and playing it honorably. And what Iseya did was not honorable. But the match was over. It was still only round robin play. Souta couldn't fret too long over what Canada was doing when his own next match was two days away. He had to focus.
Souta was doing pretty well at focusing until he ran into Iseya in the courtyard of the Olympic village later that night. The guy was practically a walking blank slate. That is until he saw Souta. Then that smirk was back in action and aimed at the only person who seemed to get any reaction other than focused concentration out of Iseya. So Souta did what he always did, glared back. Only this time, that didn't feel like enough. No, no after today's match and what had transpired. No, the closing clamp on his heart and the angry flush heating up Souta's face told him he needed more than just to try to melt Iseya's smirk with his eyes.
He needed an apology.
So despite the fact that Souta was on a walk to clear his head and prepare for the next match, he followed Iseya through a doorway and into the warm halls of their temporary housing.
Nao could hear the footsteps behind him. He wondered when they would pick up pace and intercept him. He hoped it was soon. Until then, he kept twisting and turning in the halls. Trying to find the best spot to be cornered. His efforts paid off when a hand reached out to grip his shoulder then pushed him into an alcove somewhere between the elevator and the next step of rooms. Before his back hit the wall, his lips were already stretching into that smile that only seemed to form in the presence of one person.
Ueshima Souta.
Nao had obviously heard of the Japanese-Swedish player well before they had any matches against each other. It's not like there were many Japanese curlers playing outside of their home country. People were quick to run news story about their first meeting several years ago. Nao hadn't admitted it to the press or even his sister Emi, who had moved back to Japan after their parents divorce 8 years ago. But Nao was really looking forward to meeting Ueshima. It wasn't because they were both Japanese. It wasn't because they were both curlers. It wasn't even because everyone had been asking if he was excited to meet him. It was because the first time he saw a video of Ueshima Souta throwing a stone, he had been unable to take his eyes off of him. Everyone who curls at this level was skilled, obviously. But usually, when playing, most people had a focused look about them. Determined. They closed off everything except for the stone in their hands and the ones at the other end of the playing field. Ueshima Souta was no different. You could see the determination in his eyes. It lined his body as he threw stones, swept, and strategized with his teammates. But with Ueshima, there was always just the tiniest hint of a smile on the edge of his lips. Like he couldn't hold back his joy for even a second.
Nao couldn't help it, he was hooked after that. Every clip, every article, every match Nao could get his hands on about him, Nao consumed. They all told the same story. Ueshima's family had moved to Sweden when he was young to be with his grandparents as they aged. The family stayed when Ueshima's father got a great job offer and Souta started making a name for himself in youth curling. Soon people couldn't stop talking about the happy boy who loved curling so much he couldn't keep it off of his face. Not even for a second. But Nao knew they were wrong.
It wasn't just curling Ueshima seemed to love. It was everything. He walked around with an energy that everyone around him seemed to want to match. He made the room brighter when he walked in. At least, that's how it felt the first time Nao had actually been in the same room as him. And every time since. They didn't play each other in that tournament, hadn't even talked but Nao was very aware of Ueshima anyways. It was hard to take his eyes off of that perpetual smile.
So when his back hit the wall of the alcove and he came face to face with the man who had been on his mind almost as much as curling had, Nao couldn't help it. He immediately searched for that curl of lips. That uptick at the corner of Ueshima's mouth that basically lived there. Only this time, the corner of those lips was pressed down. Smile gone. When Nao was finally able to painstakingly drag his eyes up to meet Ueshima's, he saw the upset in the downturn of his lips reflected in his eyes.
It was so quiet, Nao was terrified Ueshima heard his ribs cave in and his heart crash to the bottom of his stomach. He couldn't tell, cause that frown never wavered.
Souta was looking into the eyes of the most frustrating man he'd barely ever met and had no idea what to say. Honestly, he didn't expect to follow him into the dorms and certainly not corner him like he did but here they were. What was really sucking the wind out of his sails, was the devastated look on Iseya Nao's face.
All traces of smirk gone, Souta didn't know how to go about this. If Iseya kept being an ass, there was a clear plan of approach. But with the way he was wilting, slowly pressing further into the wall, shoulders curling into himself, Souta wasn't sure what to do.
It's not even cowardice. The guy isn't shrinking cause he knows he's wrong, he looks…confused? Disappointed?
The thoughts didn't seem right, but it was the only description Souta could come up with on the spot. Iseya had only ever had two expressions that Souta knew, focused and blank or smug. Souta was used to both but this. This made it hard to choose a next step. Souta decided to go with the obvious.
“So cheatings your thing then? That how you got here?” He asked, trying to pull from the banking fire in his gut.
Iseya's eyes widened so quick, Souta feared they'd roll out of their sockets. “Cheating?” He mumbled, liked he'd never heard the word before.
“Yes, Iseya.” Souta noticed the shiver race through Iseya's body. “Cheating. That thing you did when you double touched that second to last stone you threw.”
Iseya straightened, blinking rapidly. He continued to frown in confusion at Souta. They stood staring and blinking at each other in silence. Only when Souta's mouth started to open to clarify did recognition seem to flood Iseya's eyes. He hid it quickly, but they were standing too close, Souta watching too intently to miss it.
It brought the fire roaring back like it had been doused in kerosene.
“So you did cheat!” Souta exclaimed. Voice carrying beyond their little corner of the hall.
“I did not! That wasn't---I was not---no I didn't.” Iseya sputtered, making gestures for Souta to lower his voice and looking around. Pink climbing up his neck to his cheeks and ears.
“So then what do you call what happened back there? Hmm? Last I checked there wasn't a new rule book. You can't touch the stone after a certain point and it sure looked like you were.”
Iseya looked like dog caught grabbing food off of the table. He wouldn't meet Souta's eyes, head turned as far away as possible without completely turning his back to Souta. But again, something was off. Despite his frantic denial and obvious panic, Iseya still didn't feel like a terrible person to Souta. If anything, he looked…shy.
As soon as the word popped up, Souta could see it written all over him. From what Souta saw, Iseya had always been determined, focused. An iron wall of concentration. But outside of that, and those damn smirks he sent Souta's way any time they were in the same vicinity, Souta had not seen many other expressions on his face. But this one was clear, Iseya was shy. Nervous. Whatever happened during that match, cheating or not, and it was definitely cheating, Iseya doesn't seem to have done it on purpose. Souta had no real evidence outside of the nervous wreck in front of him. And the fact that those nerves seemed more because of how close Souta only just noticed he was to him, rather than being caught playing dirty at the highest level.
Souta took a step back. Hoping it would clear both of their heads. He saw a miniscule breath leave Iseya's chest at the motion and knew he'd gone about this wrong. Even though Iseya cheated, cornering him wasn't going to get the match back. It was more likely to get him fined than anything.
“Look man.” Souta sighed, wiping his hand over his face then back up through his hair. “Look,” he repeated. “I know you double touched that stone back there. You cheated, whether you meant to or not. I get wanting to win but it makes the game miserable if we all just did whatever we wanted with no regards to the rules. I want to have fun. We all do so just, don't…do that again, I guess. You're a great player. I've seen all of your matches. You don't need that.” Souta trailed off awkwardly. Not intending to give a speech about morals and certainly not meaning to admit he'd been following Iseya's career but somehow going on and on anyway.
The nerves were receding from Iseya's body. His blinking slowly from rapid to slow and dazed. Soon, that smirk Souta dreaded crept back up on his face. The only reason Souta didn't scoff and walk away was the fact that Iseya's blush never left. In fact it grew from a polite pink to a blazing red. Taking that smirk from smug prick to shy joy.
Souta felt his heart skip, jump, stop, and restart in rapid succession. It made him take a half step back as he watched that joy seep into Iseya's eyes.
“You watch my matches?” He asked quietly.
“I uh. Well, yeah. You're really good.” Souta admitted begrudgingly. “And it's hard to ignore you when the news always talks about the Japanese curlers playing for other countries.”
Nao laughed, the sound filled with relief and familiarity. Like he'd been thinking the same.
“I've seen your every match for the last 10 years.”
“WHAT?!”
Four years later, Canada and Sweden are shaking hands as they wrap up their gold medal match in Olympic curling. Sweden had taken home the gold thanks to Ueshima Souta's brilliant sweeping efforts. Nao couldn't even be mad. He had a front row seat to Souta's arms working hard to guide his team's stone right where he wanted them. Besides, Nao was pretty proud of himself. He managed to play the whole match without getting so distracted by Souta's perpetual smile that he accidentally cheated. That was a huge step up from the last Olympics.
Maybe it was because he was becoming used to it. They had been video calling and visiting each other to practice during the off season. Curling had started to become an excuse to see each other, really. They often went on walks together, just to talk. Whether in person or over the phone. They each stopped staying elsewhere when they visited, instead opting to stay at the other's home. Sometimes, Nao called Souta at the start of his day, just to wish Souta a good night. Other times, Nao got texts as he was heading to bed with selfies of what Souta's day was starting off with. Hands started to brush and sly glances were exchanged until one day Souta gave in and kissed Nao before he flew back to Sweden.
All those combined meant that Nao was building up a pretty solid immunity to that smile. No more cheating scandals during matches.
“You ready to go?” Nao heard from behind him. When he turned, Souta was standing there, hand outstretched, gold medal around his neck, smile on his face. Nao stood staring, not at the hand held out for him, but at the smile that took up Souta's face. “Nao?”
Nao shook himself, returned that smile with one of his own and grabbed Souta's hand. Not quite immune after all.