Work Text:
This was it. The final elimination round of the international South Park local skate-off semi-demi-hemi-finals. The only problem was that he had no idea how he'd gotten here.
It wasn't some euphemism for awe, or confusion over which hallway would get him back to his parking spot — he literally had no idea of what had led up to this moment, this exact second. He knew only one thing: skate. Skate for all that he was worth!
He could hear a song running through the back of his head:
“What would Brian Boitano do,
if he was here right now?
He'd make a plan,
and he'd follow through,
that's what Brian Boitano'd do....”
A plan. That's what he needed. Only he didn't have one. Wait — what would Brian Boitano plan? He'd wow them with a quadruple lutz!
The lights dimmed, but there was no music, no crowd.
Oh. Not another monster-of-the-week situation brought on by some wild and crazy kids...
He pushed off, gliding out across the ice that seemed to go on forever.
Actually, he had been sliding along for quite a while now, come to think of it...
A dim figure appeared in the mists ahead of him.
Wait, why are there mists out here?
The figure drew closer.
It looked familiar... something like... well, kind of like himself, really, and kind of like Brian Boitano.
They skated together, apart, separate systems of equations over time that were intertwined across different filter planes, non-interacting, but never truly without influencing each other.
He took that moment for his move, leaping boldly into his quad... so too did the opposing figure.
Who is he?
They weren't quite the same, one in shades of tone that blended and shifted, the other composed of garish primary and secondary colors with awkward angles, yet both feeling uncertain of which either of them truly was.
Circling each other, they drew close, never slowing, always moving, always watching. And then it hit them.
They knew what Brian Boitano would do.
He would skate.
And so would he.
And so the two of them would skate, too.
They danced, making love to the motions of their dance itself.
This wasn't mere art, it was life itself.
Each drawn irresistibly to the other, they knew who they were — and who the other was, who they both truly were. They were Brian Boitano, and he was them, he was the rink itself, he was in the purest love in the history of love, he was... he was...
Shaking his head to clear it, he stood there on the ice.
The last tendrils of some weird daydream clawing to retain a foothold on reality.
He glanced around, trying to sort himself out.
This was it. The final elimination round of the international South Park local skate-off semi-demi-hemi-finals. The only problem was that he had no idea how he'd gotten here.
O ~~~ O