Chapter Text
The rink was always quiet after school.
Not silent—never silent. There was always the low hum of the lights, the faint buzz of the old vending machine in the corner, and most importantly—
The sound of blades cutting into ice.
Yuuri liked it that way.
No eyes on him. No whispers. No expectations.
Just him, the cold air brushing against his cheeks, and the steady rhythm of movement he could control.
He pushed off gently, gliding across the empty rink. His reflection followed him in the glass—slightly warped, slightly distant. It was easier to look at that version of himself than the real one.
“Just one run,” he murmured under his breath.
It was always just one run.
Music played softly from his phone, tucked beside the boards. Something instrumental. Something safe. He closed his eyes for a second—
—and moved.
A step sequence flowed into a turn, then into a jump. Not perfect. Never perfect. But close enough that his chest tightened with something fragile and almost hopeful.
Yuuri landed, a little shaky.
He exhaled.
Again.
He skated back to the starting point, pushing down the doubt creeping into his thoughts.
Don’t think. Just skate.
So he did.
The door creaked.
Yuuri didn’t notice at first.
He was mid-spin, arms pulled in, the world blurring into streaks of white and grey. The kind of moment where everything else disappears.
But then—
A voice.
“…wow.”
Yuuri’s foot slipped.
The spin broke. His blade caught wrong. He stumbled—hard—and barely managed to stay upright.
His heart slammed against his ribs.
He turned.
There, leaning casually against the rink barrier like he owned the place, was someone Yuuri had never seen before.
Tall. Silver hair. Bright eyes that seemed way too amused.
The boy clapped once, slow.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he said, smiling like this was all very entertaining. “That was beautiful.”
Yuuri froze.
Words? He needed words. Why weren’t there words?
“I—I thought the rink was closed,” Yuuri finally managed, his voice smaller than he wanted.
The boy tilted his head. “It is.”
“…then why are you here?”
A pause.
Then a grin.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
Yuuri’s stomach dropped.
Right. Because he wasn’t supposed to be here either.
“I just—practice,” Yuuri said quickly, already backing toward the edge of the rink. “I’ll go. Sorry.”
“Hey, wait.”
Yuuri stopped.
The boy stepped closer to the barrier, resting his arms on it. Up close, he looked even more… confident. Like the kind of person who didn’t second-guess every little thing.
“I didn’t mean to scare you off,” he said, softer now. “I just transferred here. First day.”
Yuuri blinked.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. And I got lost.” He laughed lightly. “Ended up here. Lucky me, I guess.”
Yuuri didn’t feel lucky.
He felt seen.
And that was worse.
“You’re really good,” the boy added.
Yuuri shook his head immediately. “No, I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not,” Yuuri repeated, quieter.
The boy studied him for a second—like he was trying to figure something out.
“…you skate like you don’t want anyone to see you,” he said.
Yuuri’s chest tightened.
“That’s not—”
“But also like you really want someone to.”
Silence.
Yuuri looked away.
The ice suddenly felt too open. Too exposed.
“I should go,” he said again.
This time, he didn’t wait for a response.
He stepped off the rink quickly, grabbing his things with slightly shaky hands. He could feel the boy’s gaze on him the whole time.
At the door, Yuuri hesitated.
Just for a second.
“…you shouldn’t tell anyone,” he said, not turning around.
A pause.
Then—
“I won’t,” the boy replied. “On one condition.”
Yuuri’s grip tightened on the door handle.
“…what?”
A smile in his voice this time.
“You let me watch again tomorrow.”
Yuuri’s heart did something complicated and annoying.
He didn’t answer.
He just left.
Outside, the air was warmer, heavier.
Yuuri pressed a hand to his chest, trying to steady his breathing.
Let me watch again tomorrow.
He shouldn’t.
He really, really shouldn’t.
…but for the first time in a long time—
The thought of skating tomorrow didn’t feel so lonely.