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“W-where are we going?”
Guang Hong’s fingers are wrapped tightly around Leo’s wrist as the shorter of the two boys pulls him along the hallway, fluorescent light fixtures over their heads too hot and blindingly bright as they weave through the crowd of staff and other skaters lingering in the hallway.
“Guang Hong, where are you taking me?” Leo is starting to get worried when his friend doesn’t reply, only sees that his lips are straightened into a determined line, the blush that perpetually stains his cheeks and the bridge of his nose made more prominent as he tugs harder so Leo can keep up with him.
They make another turn and go down two flights of stairs, and still – still, Guang Hong says nothing.
‘Is he upset about getting bronze?’ Leo wonders, the frown along his brows deepening at the thought, but no that can’t be it. The seventeen-year-old seemed genuinely happy to be standing alongside him and Otarek Altin during the medal ceremony just a while ago. Leo wonders if there’s something else he’s missed; he wonders if he should ask.
“Xiao Hong!”
He calls him with the nickname that he uses only when they’re alone, and it effectively stops Guang Hong in his tracks, his messy forelocks falling over his eyes as he turns around to face him.
The stairway is deserted, the sounds of the crowd muffled and seemingly in another world.
Their hands are still linked, so Leo slides his fingers between Guang Hong’s until they slot perfectly together. The warmth of his skin, the quiet breaths, the way he tries to look up at him but something else is pulling him back, making the flush on his cheeks deepen into a lovelier shade of pink, is making Leo’s heart thrum.
“Is there something wrong?” Leo asks, tone careful and gentle.
Guang Hong shakes his head fiercely, making his wavy brown hair even more disheveled, which causes the other skater’s lips to curl up into a small, relieved smile.
“Then what are we doing here?”
“I-I wanted to congratulate you, Leo-kun,” his voice is as light and delicate as dandelion seeds, as if the slightest breeze will tear him away.
“And you couldn’t have done that upstairs?” Leo raises an eyebrow, attempting at humor.
“No,” Guang Hong only says, honey-brown eyes glancing up at Leo before he focuses his gaze vaguely to his left, and continues in a murmur, sinking deeper, “…too many people watching.”
His fingers tighten around Leo’s for a short second before Leo feels himself being yanked forward by his shirtfront, and their lips meet for the first time, a little unrefined, the angle a little awkward, but it’s warm and intoxicating and sweet, and it’s everything Leo hopes for but never expects to receive.
“Congratulations on winning first place,” Guang Hong whispers when he pulls back shakily, his hand still fisting the material of Leo’s jersey.
Leo’s dimpled smile in return is bright, and Guang Hong loses the ability to think or talk for a good moment as he recalls the press of Leo’s lips against his, his breath fanning hot across his skin. The taller boy takes Guang Hong’s other hand into his and laces their fingers together.
“If I could get a kiss from you every time I stand on the podium, I wouldn’t mind getting more medals at all,” Leo laughs.