Chapter Text
Jayce bolted out of his final class as fast as his feet would carry him.
Tonight was huge. More than huge, in his opinion.
Massive, even.
Tonight was Worlds.
Jayce watched figure skating like the rest of his classmates watched football. It was a passion of his, one he grew up sharing with his mother ever since he could remember. The two made it their tradition to watch the competition every year since he was young, and when that wasn’t enough? Little six year old Jayce would watch his mother skate in awe. When he was of age, sure enough, she taught him to skate just the same. When they moved to Piltover for his father’s job, it took the entire trip across Valoran to convince Jayce that Piltover had ice, too.
Traditions would have to break this year, much to Jayce’s complaint.
Back in Jayce’s first year of college, it was different story. Running home to spend the night at his mother’s, enjoying her cooking again, sleeping in, and arriving 20 minutes late to his first class — and giving a half assed excuse to his professor — was easy. Now, in his second year, with an ever so lovely exam in the morning? Heading back home, watching the four-hour competition, getting back to the dorms, and possibly studying for his exam was…. Not happening.
Jayce resigned to just text his mother throughout instead.
Worlds was the top of the line, the biggest night in figure skating, where those who conquered their way through their divisions and into the top competition levels came to compete for the coveted championship title. Getting there meant years of skating to start, and if you could get that far? You had a Grand Prix, Nationals, Internationals, then Worlds. Hell, Jayce would be lying if he said it didn’t make his head hurt sometimes.
Winning skaters from all across Runeterra gathered this year in Ionia to compete for the coveted title. Being crowned Runeterra’s Champion. Every year, Worlds were held in a different location, the year prior being Noxus. Noxian skaters were fiercely talented and, more often than not, won the championship.
The year prior, a Noxian skater didn’t win Worlds.
That made tonight bigger than ever before.
Last season’s winner returned to compete a second year in a row. So far this season, he was uncontested. He was loved yet utterly hated for breaking Noxus’ undefeated record, depending on who you asked. For the most part, he was viewed as a nobody given his Zaunite heritage, overlooked and underestimated, despite representing Piltover. No one expected him to make it far, yet he proved them all wrong. So so incredibly wrong.
V Revek.
He had caught Jayce’s attention instantly.
V’s debut program and free skate in the Piltover Regionals specifically. It was a huge shock to see anyone skating from Zaun, let alone make it to Regionals. Zaunite skaters were scarce as it was, and the last Zaunite skater to compete was around 4 years ago. Even then, that skater never made it past regional qualifying.
V proved to be very different.
High cheekbones, milky complexion, long legs and delicate hands; While everyone else was busy gawking that anyone in Zaun could even compete to begin with, the fluidity of his motions enamored Jayce. How in tune V became to the music he chose. The emotion he put into his programs. V wasn't just skating. He told stories.
Jayce had watched V compete religiously after that, inspired by his drive and passion. Revek skated with such elegance and poise, while simultaneously shoving Noxus’ pride directly up their own asses. Jayce became a fan after V's win the year before, ever since he took Noxus down without a shred of fear.
Part of the reason no one tried to dethrone Noxus was fear. They were ruthless; that was no secret. The idea of dethroning them at all spread whispers through the skating community. Who was bold enough to try. Stupid enough to try. Theories came and went over what Noxus might do if someone got in their way. Maybe even try to take someone out of the competition, if they felt threatened enough.
It was all just baseless rumors, though. Meant to spook and nothing more.
Hearing Revek was back yet again, aiming for two years undefeated, had Jayce vibrating out of his skin from the start of the season. It filled Jayce with butterflies — with a growing fondness he never quite understood — seeing the overlooked skater soar higher than any of the competition ever imagined he could. Revek had breezed through qualifying. Took Grand Prix with a three point lead. Took second in Nationals, but pulled through again in first for Internationals.
There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Revek wasn’t winning this year.
And shove it up Noxus’ ass for a second year.
Jayce wasn’t sure if he was going to pass out or piss himself from anticipation.
Jayce also knew he really should study for tomorrow’s exam.
Some things were just more important.
· ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Jayce nearly fell into his dorm, abandoning his bag and shoes wherever they fell. He quickly shucked off his uniform slacks on the way to his room, throwing them aside and beelined straight to his desk. A quick jostling the mouse woke the screen out of sleep mode, already tabbed open to the streaming site.
Ten minutes.
Okay, cool.
Ten minutes to scream, text his mom, find some kind of not-already-stale snack, maybe a beer, and maybe scream a little more.
Jayce managed to find himself a cup-noodle in the cupboard, the last beer in his fridge, a pair of probably clean shorts, and settled in for the night.
As the broadcast started up, Jayce was now certain he was going to piss himself.
The competition starts out with short programs. After that, skaters would perform their free skate. Their point total from both performances is what would ultimately decide their placement. Am I good enough? and Was my skating good enough? hung heavy in every skater’s mind throughout the entire event. It was a loaded question that could make or subsequently break you all the same.
One Jayce was rather familiar with, even in his own profession.
Hockey.
Through the first few skates, Jayce had managed to prepare his cup-noodle while occasionally texting throughout. A slurp here, a comment to his mom there. So far, the competition didn’t look half bad. In between programs, to fill up dead space and transitions, they would show the various skaters and what they were up to. Practicing, stretching, chatting... It wasn’t new by any means, nothing unexpected. It was filler. You didn’t have to pay attention.
The cameras unexpectedly cut to a shot of Revek, lacing up a navy blue waist corset.
Glancing up, Jayce instantly regretted it, near choking to death on a noodle and spilling his soup in the process.
Jayce was extremely glad he decided against going to his mother’s.
The camera panned to V, seeming to startle him mid task. He recovered in stride, gave a sheepish smile to the camera matched with a polite bow of the head, and offered a small wave before pulling the laces taught on his corset.
“After a quick break, We will return for a chat with our last year’s champion, V Revek! Please stay tuned~” chimed the announcer, Jayce’s phone pinging as the broadcast went to commercials as promised. Trading his noodles for his phone, he flicked the screen open.
3 New Messages from Sprout
[5:43PM] Sprout: did you see your boyfriend?
[5:43PM] Sprout: ;)
[5:44PM] Sprout: who knew he had such a small waist
Jayce was starting to regret telling his long time friend, Caitlyn, anything last year after V had won. Jayce ended up a lot bit buzzed at the after-watch party he insisted on hosting, and swiftly made a fool of himself thereafter. He invited over his closes friends, his hockey mates, even his his mother, though she insisted on staying home. Frankly, Jayce didn’t remember majority of that night, but regretted whatever he may or may not have done all the same.
He just hoped Cait didn't take his inebriated state too seriously.
She did.
· ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
“After a quick break, We will return for a chat with our last year’s champion, V Revek! Please stay tuned~”
The cameras then lowered, a visible go ahead for V to exhale. Being on live TV was still a jarring experience he wasn't sure he'd ever adjust to fully. Runeterra judged everything: all the interviews, the chatting, and every move you made were on display for all to see. Being Zaunite born wasn’t new, everyone knew that from day one, V made sure of that. While skating for and living in Piltover, V was still proud of his home, regardless of the lingering stigma.
Hiding his accent was at least something he could do to appear ‘presentable’ to the masses.
“This way,” staff instructed, guiding V to a designated area for that aforementioned interview. It wasn’t like he could say no, anyway. With one last tug of his lacings and muscle memory to tie them behind his back, V took a breath. Held it. Exhaled, and put on his best calm facade for the camera pointed at him once again.
The host hurried over with two mics, holding one out to V as he greeted the now live cameras.
“Welcome back to Ionia, everyone; I’m here with our current Worlds Champion, V Revek. V, how are you feeling about tonight?” He mused, looking from the camera to V. “Do you think you’ll be taking home the Championship a second year?”
V gave a modest shrug as he took the mic that was offered to him. Anxiety bubbled just under the surface, holding him taught. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about it. Everyone participating tonight is extremely talented, and I’m honored to be here a second year,” mentally reminding himself to look at the camera and host, respectively. “I am confident in my programs, but one can never guarantee anything. I am just happy to be here.”
The host hummed in approval, nodding as V spoke. “Humble and talented! Who would you say is your biggest opponent tonight?”
V frowned and shook his head.
“I do not see anyone here as an opponent to be beaten. My passion is skating; I let that speak for itself.”
For a moment, it looked as if that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. V's tension wound tighter in his stomach, about to backpedal, except the host pressed on as if nothing happened. Maybe that was for the better, V thought idly, praying for whatever this was to be over.
With another nod, the host continued. “Any last remarks before we let you go?”
V paused. A proper pause that creased his brow, thinking over his words before proceeding with caution.
“Nothing can hold you back from doing what you wish to do. If you wish to achieve it, you can.”
V wasn’t so sure if he was telling the world that, or himself. Knowing his health would eventually catch up to him, there was only so long he could continue to pursue skating. Pursue his dream. The ache from his arthritic joints and sore muscles reminded him after every competition that everything was finite. That, before V knew it, he wouldn’t be able to land his jumps anymore. Jump at all. Spin at all. Skate at all. Such are the joys of chronic conditions.
So for now, while his body could withstand it, V opted to live in the present.
· ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Hearing his name declared over the loud speakers meant it was time. Five minutes till ice. V hurriedly tightened his skate laces, tugged off his blade guards, and made his way to the opening in the barricade. With one last deep breath to ground himself and a silent prayer to Janna, V pushed out onto the ice.
His presence was met with excited cheering and clapping from the crowd, something that still panged V’s imposter syndrome.
This year, V donned an entirely new outfit from what he had worn the year prior.
Where other skaters often chose more form fitting body suits, jeweled and brightly colored to match their home region, V had always preferred simplicity over glitter and crystals. V took pride in his outfits, even if he owned three or four. V willingly chose to be bland by comparison, and his new outfit would prove to be no different.
He was here to skate, after all, not parade around like a gaudy bedazzled rooster.
Plain black pants that hugged his features and elongated his legs. A deep royal blue and gold waist corset, cinching him up to show his curves. The laces were tied into a loose bow and remained long, swaying behind him with tasseled and beaded ends. Underneath, he had an off white blouse with bishop sleeves, flowing ruffled collar, and matching cuffs. It sported a low cut v neck, showing his collarbones and the delicate gold and blue jewelry beneath. Matching drop earrings only partially obscured by short, tousled auburn hair.
Wearing Piltovan colors still felt…. dishonest.
Where V shied away from opulent dramatics in his outfits, he made up for in his make up.
Nothing ridiculous, but always just enough to make his amber eyes glow. Black liner and wing. Shimmery blue eyeshadow that only made itself known when he blinked, thanks to his heavily hooded eyes. A dusting of gold highlight over his features. Porcelain foundation to hide his moles and imperfections the media would surely point out.
Much to the media’s doubt, his pink tinted cheeks and lips were natural.
It was a normal occurrence to see the media questioning him. His looks. His skating. His life.
They always found something to nit pick in the Zaunite.
With one championship under his belt, V was determined to take a second, despite not outwardly voicing it. He was already the first Zaunite in history to win Worlds, and he would be the first to do it again, back to back. Even if he skated for Piltover, in V’s mind, it equally meant skating for Zaun. V would show the world that he wasn’t some poor unskilled sump rat from the Entrisol. V would show all of Runeterra what Zaunites were capable of.
What he was capable of.
V took pose on center ice.
As the music began, V pushed off and fell into a practiced rhythm, performing his step sequence with ease. This short program was a variation on one of his tried and true, with a bit more flair for the competition. It was familiar enough that he could let himself go without worry. Let his skates carry him through it despite the recent additions.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
His sequence went fine. His cross overs? Fine. His edge changes also fine-- Except they didn’t feel fine.
Anxiety began pooling in his gut. Something felt wrong.
Everything fine, just breathe, V reminded himself as he set up for his first jump. A triple salchow. His take off went smoothly, made the right jump height, pulling his arms in for three full rotations, and land—
Immediately then, V understood.
That landing would never make purchase. Before he even knew it, time to process what was happening, V felt the pain of it. Excruciating and burning, punching the air from his lungs as he felt his ankle roll under. In all of a matter of seconds, his momentum and weight slammed him down onto the ice, sliding a few feet to a still. The nauseating pain in his leg drowned out by his head hitting ice.
V had fallen enough times while skating. He knew how to fall. How to anticipate it. Prepare for it. Knowing how to move your body to avoid injury was a skill you learned before anything else. Falling was an integral part of skating, becoming bruised and battered as you master your craft.
Not this time.
Nothing could have prepared him for a fall like this.
· ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Watching V step onto the ice always had a way of making Jayce’s stomach do backflips.
Everything about him was stunning. His choice in outfits, his makeup, his figure; It was always a wonder to Jayce how people overlooked him. Saw him as less that because of where he was born. Easily dismissed him as unimportant.
V was gorgeous regardless of heritage.
Jayce got comfortable as V’s program began. V’s choices in music were always perfect in Jayce’s mind. It was often something classical and refined. Piano and violin. This time it was an orchestra cover of a song, one from a famous Demacian musical. Jayce may or may not have added it to his playlist already.
V’s program was familiar, enough so that Jayce anticipated each of V’s elements. His crossovers, his foot work, his spins— Everything was beautifully executed, even down to the subtle changes Jayce made mental notes of. Leading into V’s first jump, Jayce held his breath.
If you blinked, you might have missed it.
Jayce forgot to breathe.
V fell hard on the ice, his momentum carrying him a few feet to a still, unmoving and face down. It happened faster than Jayce could even process, in shock as the announcers attempted their best to remain calm and explain the situation. At the time, medical staff scrambled onto the ice, carefully assessing the motionless skater. Jayce heard nothing but a dull ringing in his ears as they switched feeds to slowed replays.
Seeing it slowed down was infinitely worse.
The way he landed was awful. V’s blade edge didn’t bite, rolling his ankle under. There was no way his ankle wasn’t broken, if not his leg, with the way momentum carried his body. Occasionally, the feed would switch back to the ice to check in, although there wasn't much to see/ The medical staff had huddled around V as the worked, at the same time hiding from view. The feed changed yet again, now to another skater coming out to practice yards away. Changed to the crowd. The fall again, for those just tuning in. The occasional glimpse of the medical team moving V off the ice.
Dread washed over Jayce as they cut away to commercials. He had never seen V fall. Stumble maybe, or miss a rotation, but this? It was so unlike him. Accident happen, sure, but ones like this?? A sprain or twisting an ankle was one thing. Breaking a bone meant—
Everything hit Jayce full force like a lead weight to the chest. The realization that this fall could— would take V out of the running. Worlds was officially over before it even began.
On his first jump.
After the commercials ended, Worlds continued on as if nothing had even happened. Another two skaters would take to the ice and finish their programs. Somewhere in between, the announcers gave fleeting updates that V was being transported to the hospital. Eventually, another update came after the short programs had finished.
V would be disqualified from the competition due to injury.
Jayce couldn’t stomach watching the rest.
Closing the stream, Jayce shoved the heels of his palms into his eyes, attempting to rub the image of V’s fall from his mind. It replayed repeatedly behind his eyelids, each time a brutal reminder that V was more than likely— will be out of the next season entirely. His eyes stung with threatened tears, wondering just how bad of an injury it was. If V sprained anything. Broke anything. If he needed surgery—
Defeated, Jayce made his way back to his discarded duffle and pants in the living room.
Wiping his eyes, Jayce got dressed.
There wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to sit here and study. Be expected to focus, like there wasn’t a gaping hole punched through his chest. Snatching up his keys, Jayce headed off to the one place that could drown out his thoughts entirely.
· ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
It was times like this Jayce was grateful his coach gave him keys to the private hockey rink.
· ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Jayce wouldn’t know for almost an entire year that Worlds was the last time he would see V.
It wasn’t long after Worlds concluded that it was announced V had, in fact, broke his ankle and spiral fractured his leg. The ligaments in his ankle were torn, needing surgery to stabilize the bones and reattach ligaments. With extended recovery time and physical therapy ahead of him, V withdrew from the next skating season thereafter. Word on his condition afterwards never came about, the next season continuing on as if V never existed. No one would hear from the Zaunite until after Worlds yet again came to a close that year.
V had ultimately chosen to end his skating career.
The news ripped Jayce apart.
Seldom information was given why V chose to retire aside the obvious bits and pieces. From what people could gather, his injury had proven to be more of an issue than expected. Most assumed that the healing process wasn’t going as hoped, adding to the likelihood of V never regaining full mobility in his ankle. Some speculated that because he was from Zaun, the medical treatment was lacking. Bones never set properly, tendons left torn, leaving him with a permanently swollen disfigured ankle that would never bear weight the same.
V faded into obscurity after that. Disappeared as fast as he appeared in the skating world. An easily forgotten memory.
Not to Jayce, though.
Jayce would never forget the impact V had on him.
V inspired something in him. Something Jayce didn’t fully understand.
Sure, Jayce had been watching figure skating since he was in primary school. Even his mother figure skated. It was familiar, something he had grown up with and enjoyed for years, but it was never something he saw himself doing. Tight clothes, rhinestones, all the technical twirling for some snobby judges to…. Well, judge.
Jayce was a hockey player, not a figure skater.
Except V had shown him something completely different from anything he was used to.
Whatever the hell it was, Jayce wanted to do that.
Jayce wanted to chase that fluttery feeling in his stomach he got every time he watched V perform. Chase that passion and let himself go completely. Dance to carefully chosen music and tell his own stories. Pick up speed and jump—
Chase what it might be like to fly.
· ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · Four Years Pass· ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ ·
May
The sun was barely so much as gracing the sky as Jayce nudged open the doors to the rink. He had a habit of coming in early — especially when he couldn’t sleep — to skate before summer classes. As a hockey player, the summer was often his time to focus on his degree, since the hockey season often conflicted with his university semesters and meant fewer classes.
So here Jayce was, running on three hours sleep and a red bull, lacing up his skates and pushing out onto the freshly resurfaced ice.
Met with nothing but the low hum of the AC and the scrape of blades on ice, Jayce closed his eyes as he let muscle memory carry him lazily around the rink. It was larger than the standard rink, able to accommodate a multitude of skaters on any given day. It was used for practice, those that come to try skates for the first time — and laughing at their friends when they inevitably fall on their ass — and skating classes. This was the most used rink, while down the hall was the private hockey rink he spent a majority of his time in.
Jayce gave a small exhale, turning himself to skate backwards as he approached the curve. With a few slow crossovers he rounded it, switching back to front facing as he pushed off and let himself glide down the center ice. Closing his eyes again, he gave a larger exhale — more of a sigh, if anything — as he let his thoughts wander.
He couldn’t help but think about what it might be like to let go. To interpret his thoughts and feeling in time with music, with the flow of his body movements, in the way that V used to. To be that elegant. Could he even be that elegant?
Could he ever skate as beautifully as V did?
[Part of him still wondered if V was well. Hoped he was well. If he ever truly healed properly. If he still skated at all—]
The idea had been rearing itself in Jayce’s mind more often than he cared to admit in the past year. The curiosity had always been there, but V had sparked something new that Jayce couldn’t snuff out. After V’s retirement, that spark surged into something Jayce struggled to ignore. Now in university, It had a tendency to catch him off guard. On off days, at practice, in the shower, just before bed — It was as if the second he relaxed enough, his thoughts betrayed him with an impossible idea.
Besides.
Jayce was being promoted to captain of their hockey team come next season. The responsibilities he had on his shoulders couldn’t be shifted for some silly what if dream. He was lucky enough to be at Piltover Uni on a full scholarship because of his skills in hockey. Yes, his academics and working towards a degree also helped, but dropping hockey out of the blue to figure skate, of all things, just wasn’t an option.
Except this was the off season.
The season didn’t start up again until October, and it was only May.
At least five months for him to entertain that stupid dream.
It doesn’t take long for the rink to fill with the usual early morning faces and commotions. It’s a Monday, though, arguably less crowded than most other days. Even if it was crowded, the hockey rink was often blessedly empty. There just for him if he desired.
But what’s the fun in that?
Eventually enough, Jayce found his way back inside after a jaunt to his car. He brought his gear in case he needed it more like forgetting to take it out of his trunk and figured he could at least practice his maneuverability while he was here. Stick in hand, he pushed out onto the ice. It was simple work weaving through the few skaters near the barrier, pulling the puck from his pocket as he skated further down the expanse of the rink.
It was second nature to let his thoughts blank out and his hearing to dull as he focused on his stick handling. It was easy, focusing on control while dodging imaginary defense. Dribbling the puck through obstacles only he could see, his blade work reflecting in tow. Jayce could keep at it for hours without as much as passing glances to the world around him.
And that’s exactly what he did.
Until a resounding “TALIS!” startled him back to reality and nearly making him launch the puck across the rink in reflex. Jayce whipped around in alarm, eyes the size of pucks themselves until he saw who it was.
Cait.
Jayce had met Caitlyn when he was a junior in high school, offering tutoring to the freshman. He had taught her math and science, becoming close up until Jayce graduated. They didn’t see each other as much after that, Jayce having started college, but opted to text each other instead. They met up when they could, and Jayce still offered help with her work if she needed it. Caitlyn had become like a little sister to him over the years, making it all the more exciting when he found out she started skating after she graduated.
She came early a handful of days a week to practice before her coach came, had their lesson, and headed out around lunchtime for her afternoon college classes. Apparently, this was a relatively new coach for her, pushing her skills to the limits in hopes of one day reaching Worlds.
“What the fuck!?” Jayce gave a petulant whine, exasperated, panic replaced with feigned annoyance.
“For starters, I’ve been trying to get your attention for a solid five minutes,” she snorted, giving Jayce a fond smirk paired with a tilt of the head. “The hell are you doing here so early? You have class at 10 don't you?”
Jayce gave a halfhearted shrug, picking up his puck before falling in line beside her. The two lazily glided around the rink, letting their momentum carry them as they talked.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Jayce mumbled, sounding more like a question than an answer. “Rather be here than laying in bed with my thoughts.”
Caitlyn gave a huff of a laugh, glancing Jayce over. Just from the thin sheen of sweat gathering at his hairline and the bags under his eyes, he had been here at least a few hours. Her expression slowly softened, noting Jayce’s tension. “Anything you… want to talk about?”
Jayce frowned, glancing around the rink at the various other people dotted about.
“Maybe? I— I don’t know. How’s your new coach?” he offered instead. Caitlyn eyed him quietly for a few moments before giving in. If Jayce didn’t want to talk, she wouldn’t push it.
“Good. Great, actually,” Caitlyn grinned. “I’ve been learning a lot. Been making more progress with him these past few months than I ever did with my old coaches.” While Caitlyn showed promising talent from the start, finding a coach that meshed with her style of learning seemed to be more difficult than the skating itself. Communicating with her coach and how well she executing elements seemed to go hand and hand.
Jayce raised a brow, giving her a gentle nudge. “That’s pretty impressive, you were doing good with you last one, I thought.”
Caitlyn’s last coach had seemed to be her best yet. The two worked together easily, building up her confidence and her skillset, though something never felt like it truly clicked.
Caitlyn chalked it up to overthinking, and push it out of her mind. That is, until she met her current coach.
“He knows the official judging system extremely well,” Caitlyn continued, "He’s been helping me nail down my form and body posture so that when I compete, I can reach higher competition divisions faster. Said I really have the potential to get somewhere!”
Caitlyn had mentioned her new coach in passing since they started working together. Reserved, choosing not to skate while teaching. Instead, preferring to observe from a distance, taking in the technicalities of his student’s foot work from over the barrier. Even though Jayce had never once seen him on the ice, Caitlyn sang his praises. At one point or another, Caitlyn mentioned he had even won awards in the past. That only made him sound old, if anything. From the rare glances Jayce caught of the man? He didn’t seem old at all.
“And you met this guy… how again?”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes.
“I told you. I was practicing early one morning. I was trying to work on a jump sequence my other coach had been helping me with,” Caitlyn explained, “He stopped me and ended up giving me some advice on my take off and arm positions. I tried it again, took his advice, and ended up landing it.”
“So I asked him if he was a coach, and he said yes,” shrugging as if it was no big deal. “Been meeting up ever since.”
Jayce stared at her for a few moments, spacing out as a terrible horrible idea bubbled up into Jayce’s throat, forcing himself to swallow it back down and ignore it. It was a stupid idea, one that would never—
“I think…I want to skate, Cait.”
So much for ignoring it.
“What do you think you’re doing right now?” Caitlyn gawked, shoving Jayce playfully despite the clear cut confusion in her brows.
“Jayce whined, swatting at her weakly. “No! I- fuck, I mean ice skate!”
“Jayce.”
“Fuck me— like you do,” vaguely throwing his hand towards the open rink.
Caitlyn gave Jayce an incredulous look before asking carefully. “You want to figure skate…?”
Jayce flushed a light shade of pink, hunching his shoulders. “I— uhm… Yeah,” giving a barely there nod to boot.
“Oh.” Cait took a moment to wrap her mind around the mental image of Jayce figure skating. Snickering to herself, she gave Jayce another shove, this time hard enough to make him stumble. “Are you okay?? Did you fall or something before I got here? Last night, maybe??” her tone light and teasing.
Jayce groaned, rolling his eyes and shoving her back [albeit much lighter] with a dumb grin on his lips. “No, I’m fine, I just— Ive wanted to for a while actually,” he trailed, reflexively rubbing at his neck. “Ive wanted to since I started Uni, I just— I want to know what its like. To express myself like that, y’know?”
Caitlyn gave a appreciative nod and a few hums in reply to Jayce’s babbling. “No, I get it. For someone who watches so much figure skating, I wondered why you took the hockey route,” she hummed.
“I’ve been thinking of asking your coach if he’d teach me a few things, actually—“
“Jayce—“
“I know, I know!” Jayce cut back in, stopping her thoughts short, “but with how good you say he is, I’m sure he could teach me the basics blindfolded.”
Jayce was near beaming, nudging Cait with his elbow as they slowed to a stop. “Y’think he’d teach me?”
Caitlyn knew well enough that stopping Jayce from doing something he had his heart set on was about as immovable as a stone wall. It was part of what made Jayce who he was, that bright, shining determination, blind to reason and logic. Jayce wore his ambitions — and his heart — on his sleeve, in the best and worst ways. If there was something he wanted, he would find any way to achieve exactly that.
She gave him a pat on the arm and another understanding nod. “I know better than to convince you otherwise. You’re too stubborn for that.”
Jayce scoffed.
“Tell me how it goes if you do, okay? My lesson is about to start,” jerking her head toward her aforementioned coach, now waiting by the barrier.
“Course, who else would I tell?” Jayce waved her off, sighing to himself in pre-defeat. In theory? Asking for lessons was a simple task. That’s why coaches existed. It was their job to coach. Jayce was a full-grown adult, capable of making adult choices and having adult conversations. There should be nothing stopping him from asking a harmless question.
Then why was it so nerve wracking?
Caitlyn’s coach was… intimidating to say the least. While Jayce hadn’t even met the guy, Jayce had seen enough from occasional glimpses across the ice to form his own convoluted interpretation of the other. It didn't take much for embarrassment to creep up Jayce's spine, left unable to find the right words and making a total fool of himself more than he usually did.
Jayce busied himself in the mean time, waiting until Caitlyn’s lesson was over before decidedly making his move. Watching her step off the ice, briefly chat with said coach, and eventually change out of her skates to leave, Jayce scrambled to the barrier opening and off the ice.
Jayce knew better than to walk on his blades, let alone run on them, but this was an exception.
If he was quick enough, there was a chance Jayce could catch the man in question before he could slip out the main doors. Mentally crossing his fingers, Jayce rushed down to the bleacher seats where the two had been talking.
Thankfully, the man hadn’t even stood up yet.
He was slim in frame, shorter than Cait, with a pale complexion contrasted by the hollows of his cheeks and under eyes. Slender fingers that held a cane upright in front of him. Chestnut waves that reached his shoulders, partially pinned back into a messy bun of sorts. Thin framed glasses resting on roman nose. Two moles. Hooded amber eyes.
Great. Cool. So he's intimidating and attractive.
Jayce gathered up the last shreds of his courage and cleared his throat, praying his voice hadn’t completely abandoned him.
“E-excuse me?” Jayce forced out as calmly as he could manage, the pink high in his cheeks betraying his feigned cool guy demeanor. “You’re… miss Kiramman’s coach, right?”
The shorter looked up at Jayce, expression neutral aside from a raised brow. “I am.”
Jayce was practically glowing. “Will you teach me to ska— figure skate??”