Winter in New York City is always a magical time.
Well, that is if you ignore the icy rain and the slush that covers the ground. You also have to ignore the copious amounts of homeless people lurking within the corners of the city. If you're Dream, you learn to avoid anyone and everyone on the streets, walking with one purpose only.
He's not originally from New York City, but the weather in Florida doesn't always provide the best conditions for ice skating. Dream had moved away for college, and now has an apartment right off of campus. It's the perfect place, as it's right next to the ice rink—the professional one, not the public one that he had made the mistake of practicing at when he first moved.
"Dream? Are you coming?" Darryl—or coach Bad, as he likes to be called—yells from outside the locker room.
"Yeah! Be there in a sec!" Dream yells back, lacing up his dirty tennis shoes. He winces looking at them, noticing just how bad of a condition they're in. Alas, being in college doesn't give Dream much spending money, as he's too busy with his classes or skating. Any money he doesn't spend on skating gear goes to his apartment.
Dream meets his coach in the hallway, slinging his bag haphazardly over his shoulder. Bad has been his coach ever since the blonde moved here three years ago. He's good, really good, but has always preferred coaching over performing, he says.
"Nationals are next week, are you excited?" Bad asks, the two walking side by side through the empty corridors. There's nobody else at the rink, the time being nearly two in the morning. Dream, being a sleep deprived college student, has always found peace in the quiet and empty rink. Bad joins him some days, usually when Dream misses his weekly daytime lessons.
"You know it," Dream beams, thinking about nationals already. He has this in the bag, as he's been preparing for this for years. Winning nationals means a free ride to worlds, then eventually to the Olympics, something Dream has always dreamt of attending. Still, there's a while until the Olympics, and a lot more competitions until then. He just has to survive the season.
"Do you think you have the routine down? I don't want anymore panic calls at one in the morning," Bad says, feigning annoyance. Really, Dream knows he doesn't mind. Bad loves his students more than anything else—besides maybe his boyfriend.
"I think so," Dream shrugs. "It's not like I forced you to come or anything."
"Yeah but you know I'd always help you out, muffinhead," Bad says with a light shove to Dream's shoulder.
Dream elbows him back and scoffs. "Stop calling me that!"
"Never," Bad snickers and slings an arm around his student, the two spending the rest of their walk talking about the competition. Dream uses this to release stress, trying not to overthink everything again.
Bad offers to cook Dream dinner, knowing the blonde has been practicing for hours on end, but he declines. Dream usually gets too far in his head to even think about eating, which, he thinks is the cause of his eating disorder. He doesn't mean to, but he'd rather be in control of everything—including his weight, his routines, his appearance, friendships, etc.
Dream sighs as he finally slumps into bed, letting the covers engulf his cold body. He finally gets to rest tomorrow—it's a Sunday, and usually he doesn't go to the rink that day—so he doesn't bother setting his alarm.
—————
Practice has been brutal these past few days.
Ever since Dream's day off on Sunday, he's been practicing non-stop. Halloween has just passed, and Dream is nearing winter break at college, something he's extremely grateful for. The first wave of nationals is November 8th, then the next is a few months later in February. Dream hopes he wins this upcoming one so that he doesn't have to compete in February—he doesn't know how much more preparing he can do before collapsing. At least winning the first branch of nationals gives him a breather until the world competition, which is at the end of February.
Dream sighs, repeating his routine for what must be the tenth time today.
"Dude, you're insane," Sapnap, Dream's best friend and partner skater, speaks up from outside the rink.
"When did you get here?" Dream asks, skating over to him and wiping the cold sweat off of his face. He catches his breath and takes a drink of the water bottle on the ledge next to Sapnap.
"Long enough to see that you're practically killing yourself over this routine," Sapnap says, to which the blonde only shrugs to. "Nationals is in two days, you need to rest."
"No, I need to perfect this routine," Dream says matter-of-factly, recounting all of the steps in his head.
"If you keep drilling this into your head, you'll work yourself until you can't move anymore!" Sapnap complains. "Come on, let's go out. We're celebrating your win."
"I haven't won though," Dream says, catching his breath finally.
"Not yet you haven't," Sapnap says with a smug grin. "You have the competition beat, even me. Come on, let's go out to the bar. I'll invite Karl and Alex!"
"No, not those two," Dream complains, though they're all four close friends so Sapnap obviously knows this is a joke.
"Come on, let's go. I'm not letting you touch your skates until the competition," Sapnap says, helping his friend off of the ice. Dream rolls his eyes and walks off, immediately grabbing his bag. He changes into normal shoes and lathers on some more deodorant, not bothering to change his clothes.
Sapnap leads his complaining best friend to the bar—where Karl and Alex are conveniently waiting for them already—and the blonde immediately feels left out. It's obvious the three of them have a connection, and Dream almost senses sexual tension between Karl and Sapnap. He sighs and places his head on his hand, leaning his elbow on the bar as his friends chat their ears off.
It's not until a voice speaks up that Dream realizes he's zoned out.
"Hey? Are you alright?" Somebody asks, the person having moved to the seat next to him.
"Yeah, just zoned out," Dream says, looking around. He notices Sapnap, Alex, and Karl are gone and immediately curses under his breath.
"Friends leave you?" The man chuckles, and Dream nods. He extends his hand, which the blonde reluctantly takes. "I'm Wilbur Soot, and if I'm being completely honest with you, I already know who you are."
"That's not creepy at all," Dream says, eyes now wide in confusion. The man chuckles, and it's the most British sounding laugh he's ever heard.
"Now that I'm thinking about it, that is pretty creepy," Wilbur says, thinking to himself. "I meant to say that I know you from your competitions. In figure skating, of course."
"You watch?" Dream asks, his interest suddenly piqued.
Wilbur nods with a self satisfied smile. "Yep, I'm actually attending nationals. I used to skate with my friend, but I gave it up."
"Why did you give it up?" Dream asks, suddenly finding himself interested in Wilbur's story. Dream's always been good at chatting with strangers, he thinks.
"The passion wasn't there anymore. After seeing my friend quit, I couldn't bother trying anymore," Wilbur shrugs. "Speaking of, it seems that I've been stood up."
"What do you mean?" Dream asks, feeling dumb as if he needs the man to spell it out for him.
"I was here to meet a friend, but he's clearly not showing. He probably got lost on the way here, or maybe he's just being a little bitch again," Wilbur says, whispering the last part. He looks up to Dream with semi-wide eyes and an aloof smile. "My apologies, I don't mean to sound so informal."
"It's alright," Dream assures him. "I'm sorry your friend isn't showing. I think I'd rather be stood up than ditched though, in all honesty."
Wilbur chuckles at that. "Amen brother. Well, tell me about yourself."
"What do you want to know?" Dream asks.
"Everything," Wilbur answers. "Your skating is phenomenal, and it reminds me very much of someone I know. Why did you start?"
"Why did I start skating?" Dream repeats, thinking to himself as Wilbur nods. "I don't know, I thought it was cool."
Dream won't admit the real reason, as it's a bit embarrassing. In reality, he had fallen in love with the sport through someone else. An idol, you may say. His idol is none other than George Davidson, a now retired world renown figure skating champion. Dream finds that it's embarrassing to have started because of someone else, so he doesn't tell people the real reason.
"Understandable," Wilbur nods. "My mother made me join. I guess that's the difference between us. One is driven by passion, the other by force. Reminds me of my friend."
"You seem to quite like this friend of yours," Dream says, quirking an eyebrow.
Wilbur smiles. "As a friend, yes, as a skater, no. He's a pain in my ass. First he quits skating, then he stands me up. What an asshole, I'm going to tear that man apart next time he asks me a favor!"
Dream notices Wilbur's very clear drunk expression now, wondering how he hadn't noticed before. It's obvious the man has been here a while, and Dream almost feels bad for him.
"Well, Dream, it was nice meeting you, though I wish I wasn't drunk right now. This is embarrassing, I hope you don't think I'm an alcoholic or anything," Wilbur says with a chuckle. "But I really must go. I'm looking forward to watching you at nationals, and I hope you win. I'll be rooting for you."
"Thank you," Dream smiles kindly, shaking the man's hand once more. "It was nice meeting you as well. Perhaps I'll see you after the competition."
"After you win," Wilbur smiles, standing up.
Dream shifts uncomfortably at yet another person assuming he will win. "After I win," he smiles, waving as the man starts walking away.
The blonde is left once again with his thoughts, remembering his routine and going through each step in his head. He disregards his drink and traces his finger along the bar top, pretending it is his skating routine. Dream sighs and waits for his friend.
He orders a water and decides that he'll have to be the designated driver tonight. He already knows Karl and Alex had taken an Uber, both planning on getting blackout drunk. Sapnap as well, electing to ride with Dream.
After a long day and night, Dream only wishes to be back at home in his own bed.
—————
The day of nationals comes faster than Dream had anticipated.
Really, the days went by normally, but everything seemed to go by quickly in his panicky state. Dream decided, against better judgement, to practice all day the day before the competition. Now, his body is tired but his mind is high on adrenaline and hope.
Dream saunters into the skating rink alongside Sapnap and Bad. Instead of doing a partner routine, Sapnap had decided to try out solo competition. Now, he's up against Dream, but really the blonde isn't too worried. The top two will be attending worlds in February, and he's confident that will be him and Sapnap.
Upon seeing the competition, Dream thinks they have a good chance. So far nobody in particular stands out, so Dream makes his way to the rink to warm up. There's approximately thirty minutes until the competition starts, and Dream is on near the end, so, he'll have much watching and anticipating to do—rather, he'll judge the other competitors of course.
While stretching next to the wall by Bad, a familiar figure catches Dream's eye. It's Wilbur, and next to him is someone Dream hadn't expected to come. It's the retired figure skater that's been his idol since he was a kid—George.
"Is that George Davidson?" Dream asks, obviously shocked. Bad turns and his eyes go wide with shock upon noticing. "Why is he here?"
"It's the five year anniversary of his first national title win," Bad speaks quietly, mostly to himself as Dream can tell that he is still surprised. "I wasn't expecting him to come."
"What?" Dream voices his confusion. Before his coach can respond, though, he's walking away and approaching the two men. Dream, though, too worried about his performance, shakes his coach's weird behavior off and gets to practicing. He's already wasted approximately two and a half minutes standing around, barely stretching, and now he chooses to work on his routine.
He only words on the basic jumps, opting out of performing the whole routine. He knows people's eyes are on him, being such a well respected athlete. This is Dream's first national competition, and the pressure on him is immense. Most people are predicting him to not only win nationals, but also worlds, becoming one of the youngest people to do so—behind George and a few others, that is.
George, Dream's childhood idol, had won his first national title at just eighteen years old, the youngest out of anyone. Then, he went onto worlds upon turning nineteen and won that, advancing to the Olympics the next year. Unfortunately, though, the brunette had suffered a bad fall at the Olympics and got taken out of the competition, losing his spot and eventually falling out of the sport entirely.
It's been like this for years, and Dream has hardly stopped thinking about it. He wonders, anxiously, if the same thing will ever happen to him. He hopes not, knowing how terrible George must feel.
Dream nearly fumbles a jump when a voice interrupts him from his thoughts.
"You didn't get enough height on that double axel," someone says, their voice harboring a deep British accent. Dream snaps his head to see the George Davidson looking at him.
"I-" Dream says, unable to find the right words.
"You need to tuck your right foot in more too or you'll hurt yourself if you fall," George says, seeming to have analyzed all of Dream's moves. The blonde looks around nervously to see Bad and Wilbur nowhere to be found, just the judging eyes of his childhood idol.
Dream's instincts kick in and he finds himself wanting to protect his fragile ego. "My foot was tucked in enough."
"I disagree," George says flatly. "Your left foot didn't get enough momentum to push your body up high enough, and you had no support. You'll fall and hurt yourself."
"What do you know..." Dream mumbles, and George doesn't respond to it. Either he didn't hear it or pretended not to—Dream hopes it's not the latter, but it probably is.
"You need to turn faster as well," George says. "You're nervous."
"I'm not," Dream scoffs, finding himself becoming annoyed with the person that's supposed to be his idol. This isn't the sweet and fluffy meeting he was hoping they'd have. No, he finds himself spiteful and bitter, his ego too large to be taking this right now.
"You are," George says. "Relax, you'll do fine. Just remember what I said, okay?"
Dream nods, forcing himself not to roll his eyes in annoyance. The sound of someone skating quickly towards him and a pair of arms wrapping around Dream's shoulders startles him. He looks over to see Sapnap smiling at him.
"Hey Dream, what are you doing?" Sapnap asks.
"Talking, obviously..." Dream looks over just to see George gone, nowhere in sight now. He had disappeared as soon as he appeared, making Dream wonder if maybe he is seeing things. Perhaps he's finally gone and lost his mind. The blonde wouldn't doubt it.
"Right..." Sapnap says with a shrug. "Well, we should get off now. They're starting to prepare the crowd for the first skater."
Dream nods and the two make their way off the ice, searching desperately for their coach. They find Bad now sitting alone, and the two of them end up sitting next to him. They watch the other competitors before Sapnap has to get ready to perform.
Sapnap's performance goes well—no, rather, outstanding. The execution of his routine ends up flawless and the judges' reactions are nothing but positive. Dream finds himself happy, hoping he'll be able to join his friend at worlds as clearly Sapnap has a spot in the competition.
Dream anxiously waits, thinking over what George had said. He scoffs internally, thinking the Brit crazy for critiquing his performance. Dream figures he's just overthinking it. Maybe George was just trying to get into his head. Maybe he's here rooting for someone else and wants Dream gone. Regardless, the blonde doesn't let George's words affect him. He makes his way to the queue and prepares his skates.
As the song starts—Rachmaninoff's 'Italian Polka', an exciting piece Dream had picked out months ago—Dream starts his routine on a good note. The music flows nicely and Dream skates beautifully, occasionally receiving cheers and chants when he lands a difficult jump.
When the music starts to pick up more, Dream finally looks at the crowd. He doesn't usually do this, but he looked up out of habit. Here, he notices everyone watching him, and the already fast music doesn't help his racing thoughts. They're staring, judging, him, and it hurts. It seems to burn him, and Dream is now self conscious about each move. He continues to land the moves perfectly, until he suddenly goes for the double axel. Usually this move is perfect, but Dream fumbles and completely loses his balance, falling hard onto the ice.
Dream clutches his ankle in pain and collapses onto the ground, ignoring the loud gasps and judging eyes.
Dream's messed up. He's lost what was his to win.
Now what will he do?
_______
[a/n]
figure skating au!
idk about you guys, but i'm obsessed with ice skating and i was actually considering writing this story for a while. that being said, i hope you like it!
this was the first chapter, and i have many more to come! in all honesty, this wasn't the story i was planning on writing, but i just kept coming back to it and now i want to write this one :p
also if you understand the title i love you...
anyway, i hope you all enjoyed, i'll see you in the next chapter! ily all, stay healthy and hydrated <3