Krasobruslení

In training, Yuzu is mostly a blur in Javi's peripheral vision, but every once in a while, Javi glimpses the play of muscle on a perfect quad Lutz, the flex and stretch of a spin.

After practice, Yuzu collapses onto the bench next to him, head on Javi's shoulder. They're both gross, dripping in sweat, but as he pats Yuzu's rock-solid thigh, Javi wants.

He's been in love for a long time, but now, he's in lust. As black eyes bore into his and a small smile tugs at Yuzu's lip, Javi wonders if maybe he's not the only one.

Yuzuru had wanted water, but the cellarman's scathing look made him accept the glass. "Must drink wine in Spain," he mumbled, then proceeded to rant about grapes.

Yuzu sips the wine. It tastes... new.

*

"Okay... bed," Javi says, unbuttoning Yuzuru's coat, pulling off his shoes.

Yuzuru is giggling about the stray curl on Javi's head. Then he has the craziest idea, the best idea. He grabs Javi's shirt, pulls...

Javi stops him with a palm against his chest. His eyes stray briefly to Yuzu's lips before he presses a kiss to Yuzu's forehead.

"Only orange juice for you next time."

The first time Javi beats him at Worlds, Yuzuru can't quite believe it. It's surreal, walking backstage without the satisfaction of victory. There is bitterness in his mouth, like the wormwood mother makes him drink for upset stomach, and momentarily, Yuzuru wants to scream.

But then he sees Javi's face, the surprise, the pride, the sheer happiness as Javi steps towards him.

Suddenly, he's crying, even as he insists he's not, so afraid Javi will misunderstand.

"You're always the champion in my heart," Javi says, craddling him close, and Yuzu realizes that even the bitterest pill can taste like heaven.

Certain topics are prohibited when your lover is your fiercest rival.

Your health.
When Yuzuru calls Javi from NHK, sobbing that "maybe I cannot go to Olympics," Javi doesn't think about how that improves his own chances. Instead, he talks nonsense until Yuzu falls asleep.

Missing each other.
When Yuzu is recovering, Javi calls him daily to say he misses his smile, his kisses, his hands, trying not to cry with longing.

What happens after PyeongChang.
"I'm retiring," Javi whispers before the medal ceremony.

"I can't do it without you!"

"You won't have to, cariño. I'll be right there. Always."

Nudity doesn't bother Javi, a European. Neither do sweaty men undressing, showering, dressing... that's standard locker room business.

What bothers Javi is Yuzu peeling off skin-tight training clothes, Yuzu strolling around the lockers butt-naked, Yuzu going commando whenever they leave the rink together, the tease. Yuzu, who is now twenty, all new curves, muscles and Olympic-champion confidence, makes Javi very bothered indeed.

But Javi resists and remains Yuzu's friend, only a friend. Because Javi is not gay - or at least not until the night Yuzu slays him at Mortal Kombat, laughs, and then sits in his lap to kiss him.

Yuzuru loves skating in Japan. Being in Japan, not so much. He cannot walk down the street unrecognized. It's like he has this "identity", this persona to live up to - Yuzuru Hanyu, two-time Olympic champion, quasi god. It feels fake.

For that, he loves Toronto. There, he can be just Yuzu. He can fall in practice without landing in the newspaper. He can sit in a cafe laughing at Javi's jokes. He can, when he's feeling particularly reckless, press his lips to Javi's neck as they ride the subway home. He feels like he can be himself - free and real.

"How could you let him do this? He'll kill himself trying! You, Tracy, Kikuchi - you allowed this?! And the federation! Everyone wants glory, NOBODY THINKS OF HIM, YOU'RE ALL SELFISH!" Javi hangs up, breathing hard.

"Is not their fault."

Javi starts. He never heard the shower stop.

Yuzu limps towards him, careful now with the painkillers wearing off.

"Is me. I want to skate, at home. You'd do same."

Javi knows Yuzu's right, of course. He sags against Yuzu; anger, fear, concern and love making his knees weak.

"Just be safe," he pleads, although he knows skating is anything but.

Cats, Yuzu thinks as he watches Effie in Javi's lap, have such a life!

Not that life is bad, now. The days following a seasons' finish are always pleasant.

He just beat Javi in his favorite video game, his body doesn't ache, Javi's made him tea... Life is good... and yet...

Yuzu wishes he could do whatever he wants, like Effie.

You're World Champion, he reminds himself. Be brave!

And so when Effie abandons Javi, he stretches out on the couch, resting his head in Javi's lap.

Javi draws a surprised breath. Smiles. Then threads his fingers into Yuzu's hair.

It's late. Yuzu should be sleeping, but he keeps the lights ablaze as he watches. The video ends and he hits replay. There it is again - the popped quad sal.

He tells himself it was the ankle, but he knows better. It's the first Worlds without Javi. It felt like entering a battlefield without an ally.

The tears start rolling.

A knock on the door. A familiar voice. "It's me."

Yuzuru hesitates, shocked by his sudden yearning.

In the end, he lets Javi in.

"Rest, cariño", Javi murmurs as he kisses away the tears and turns off all the lights.