Always Beside You

Biellmann

Biellmann - A spin performed with the free leg pulled above the head and held by the blade, bending the body until it becomes something it was never meant to be.

Satoru

"Gojo Satoru has scored..."

He is still fighting the adrenaline in his body, every forced breath he takes burning the deepest part of his lungs, his legs feel heavy from the relentless minutes of edge work, bending and extending them, spinning and jumping with his full body weight being pulled back down by the force of gravity. His muscles are throbbing from the aftermath, still expecting another movement, Satoru usually feels like this after pushing his body beyond its limit. Feeling his muscles scream in protest is something he has learned to endure and grown to find comfort in even.

His fingers tremble slightly from a combination of nerves and exhaustion lingering as he takes off his gloves, there are white flowers and diamonds embroidered across the fabric, catching the light of the cameras making them glitter. He admires how they look in his hand, it's such a simple item made to protect his hands from the cold, yet they're so beautiful.

The costume feels heavier than it looks, heat clinging uncomfortably under the layers of ivory fabric draping his shoulders like freshly fallen snow, it matches his gloves with similar flower sequences, pearls and diamonds glued on the upper part of his costume. They shimmer in a synchronized rhythm to his breath, every rise and fall of his chest causing them to turn into stars against the white fabric.

His music he was skating to minutes ago is now playing faintly in the background, fulfilling its purpose of replacing the silence the judges leave behind, while everyone waits for them to count the points and review footage, before the scoreboard can light up with Satoru's result. The last notes of the instrumental version of Horizon of Memories drift through the arena, but without a choreography to follow it feels kind of empty, since a few minutes ago it had carried Satoru between his jumps, his body moving gracefully in sync with the melody.

He sits on the tiny blue couch with just enough room for him and his coach Yaga to fit, it's perfectly centered in front of the big camera that is sending the live stream across the world. He is surrounded by bouquets and Asian Open Figure Skating Trophy written on colorful banners. Between the camera and them, a water bottle he got from one of the volunteers after he finished his skate, and a computer rest on a tiny table.

Satoru's least favourite part of competing is waiting for the result, the program is done, every move, turn and jump is permanent. If there was a mistake, it's too late to change.

The kiss and cry is just a waiting room disguised with pretty decorations providing false comfort for the competitors, there is nothing tender about it. It's just a place where skaters wait for their careers to be reduced to numbers on a screen.

Just a few minutes ago, everything he wanted was within an arms reach, but now sitting on the blue couch that is way too soft to be comfortable, there is nothing he can do, well except for praying he gets swallowed by the overly fluffy cushions.

His coach Yaga sits next to him perfectly still, his hands folded in his lap and eyes following Satorus quad lutz that is being replayed on the small screen in front of them. His silence louder than any music Satoru likes to drown in before sleeping, he catches the older man's expression in the corner of his eye.

Wow. Yaga is not happy, and neither is he. But with the little strength he has left he forces himself to remain calm in front of the cameras, though he is certain his coach is going to rip apart his whole performance if he gets a deduction on the lutz. His approval has always been rare, even though, no. Because Satoru is the best, he is expected to do inhumane things on the ice.