Chapter 16

1.6K 74 24
                                    

After the day she sent that message, all was silent. 

He didn't reply.

It was just like before, the same awkward silence that plagued them.

And she was getting rather sick of it.

She'd rather lose the friendship rather than to always guess and beg for any piece of information about him.

He was always so scared, so afraid of telling her more about him.

She knew that he probably had his own reasons, but she'd resented the fact that he didn't trust her.

The colours that he'd brought into her life were fading, bit by bit, day by day.

And she didn't want to see the day it faded completely.

The walls would turn stark white again, him nothing but a bleak reminder of how painfully blank her life was.

Nothing more than a person who'd passed in and out of her life, blending into the wall.

Just when she thought that he wouldn't be like that.

Like the many others who were also white, just plain white.

She knew, of course, that he had colour; he wasn't like the rest. He was extraordinary colourful, his eyes twinkling with bursts of colour when he laughed.

But he was suppressing it, intentionally.

Therefore, the day he was willing to show his true colours, she swore that she would give him a chance.

A chance to prove her wrong.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The world swirled into a whirlwind of colours as he rotated in the air, three and a half times.

And landing it smoothly on a right outside edge.

The triple axel.

The coveted jump that everybody loved, everybody shouted and screamed and cheered for.

Even though it was three and a half rounds, not four.

But it was up there, comparable to the quads.

The triple axel.

He'd put it in many of his programmes, a common jump for him, by now.

But it took him two weeks to get it back, because of his stitches hurting like a crazy ass.

A quick gulp of water, a small fistbump with Nam, and off he was, back on his programme.

He was anticipating.

When he'd received her message a month ago, lying on his hospital bed, he didn't know what to do.

He didn't know exactly what she meant.

But he decided that it was enough, and he would show her who he really was.

And if she left him, he would have nothing to regret.

He was nervous, without a doubt. Nervous to the point where it felt like a whole herd of elephants marching together with his heartbeat, shouting battle cries into the distance.

But he had to do it.

If he didn't tell her the truth, he wouldn't be able to bear the guilt for the rest of his life.

All the what ifs.

What if I told her I was a skater from the start?

What if I never had to lie to her?

What if she really didn't judge me for who I am?

He told Brian about her a few days ago, about how he wanted to have the rink to himself (albeit selfishly) on the evening of 15th March.

About how he wanted to show her his programme, Chopin Ballade in G minor.

Fingers crossed that she didn't storm out in rage, he would then bring her for dinner and smoothly explain why he hid his identity from the start.

Well, if it even went smoothly.

"Sushi, you okay?" Nam asked, gulping some water down as they unlaced their boots.

"Yeah, I'm great," he mumbled, trying to hide the discomfort while he bent over, slowly unlacing his boots.

"Yeah, and I'm a pink unicorn. Just admit it, it hurts, right?" Nam shot back sneakily, pulling some tissue out of Kumamon-san.

"It's alright... It doesn't hurt as bad as you think."

"Why do you insist on the Chopin, though? You should be recovering, not doing triple axels. Besides, if you wanted to show her that you were a kickass champion, I think one of your exhibition programmes would do. The chances of falling are much lower," Nam rattled, dabbing away at the sweat on his forehead.

"True, but I just feel like Chopin really conveys my feelings right now." He laughed a little, chucking his skates in his bag.

"What, the feeling of your stitches bursting?"

They burst out in laughter, clutching onto the tissue boxes. 

As Nam babbled on about another joke, he whipped out his hand phone, nodding distractedly as his fingers flew over the screen, typing a short message out.

Yuzuru: Can you meet me at the Cricket rink on 15th of March at 7pm?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

White WallsWhere stories live. Discover now