hey guyssss!!
I've prepared a little longer imagine for you... (sorry if something's not accurate i dont really know how figure skating or any of that works irl but just go with this for the sake of the story ✋😭)
A question: do you like it being this long (5k words) or do you prefer the short ones?
Anywho...thanks to all the reads and the votes and comments!!
*
The ice was stinging cold underneath your fingertips.
The breath was burning in your lungs and throat.
And yet - yet it was not enough.
Hastily, you got back up onto your skates, legs still a little shaken from the drastic fall. The coldness of the ice was still seeping on your cheek from where it touched skin.
You're probably going to have a bruise tomorrow.
But this won't stop you, no. You need to work harder. Train harder. Jump harder.
With a deep breath, your legs began moving again, began to pick up speed as the skates glided smoothly across the ice. Your hair was waving behind your back from the rush of air, skirt flaring, exposing the shorts you wore underneath.
Jumping up, your body carried itself into the air, spinning around without a steady ground. Then, your feet connected with the ice again. Then, your body collided with the ice again.
Groaning, you frustratedly smashed your fist against the ice. No matter how much you tried, you just couldn't get the jump right - you'd always not spin enough, land in a bad way, always fall down, unable to hold your balance.
All of a sudden, you heard a clapping sound. Your head shot up, only to be met with a tall figure of a boy you did not recognize. His hands were raised in the air, the producers of the sound, and a smile that appeared to mock you on his lips. "I thought a figure skater knows how to jump," he called out to you from the entrance to the ice rink.
His h/c hair was partly hidden beneath a beanie and he was clad in a hoodie and trousers, with a hockey stick next to him. Only then did your eyes travel lower, to spot his very own skates on his feet.
Unlike yours, though, his were hockey skates, without any spikes, bigger and bulkier.
"I know how to jump," you retorted under your breath. Your mood was already below the content level, having a bad day, your practice just didn't go the way you wanted, and now this boy dared to disvalue all your hard work?
He was already stepping on the ice. You were not sure whether he had heard you, but as you skated towards the exit, he shot another smile at you, full of confidence. As if he thought he was the reason you decided to leave.
No, you had meant to leave after this jump, anyway. You'd surely not let some boy you had just seen for the first time dictate what you were going to do or not do.
Because as much as you wanted to jump just a few more times, you knew your body deserved to rest. It was no use practicing while being frustrated when instead of the pent up frustration fading away with the familiar movements, spirals, spins and jumps, it was only adding up into the already too big of a pile inside your chest.
You stepped out, changing into your sneakers, and headed towards the lockers in the back to change out of your sweaty practice attire into your normal clothes.
You went home and slept. Sleep finally managed to ease your mind.
*
The next day, your body felt a little sore from how many times you had fallen the day before - instead of practicing on ice that day, you opted to build up your strength and stamina, running more than a few laps until you were gasping for breath.
You ran until your head was dizzy from the lack of air.
It still felt like it was not enough.
*
"What are they still doing here?" one of the other girls inquired, staring at the hockey team on the ice rink, providing no means of leaving.
"Shut up, let them be," another one said, "look at that guy, isn't he just so cool?" Of course, she was swooning over the hocker players again.
"Hey, who's that?" the girl was pointing at one of the guys. "He looks like he's new, I haven't seen him before."
"Yeah, I think I saw him a few days ago, too. He came to practice here while I was finishing practicing as well," you spilled, keeping your voice low to make sure he won't hear you. You weren't even sure why you did not want him to hear.
Just then, your trainer came back, unknowingly putting a stop on any further talk regarding the new boy on the hockey team, and said to you all, "so, apparently, they have a new member, so they've been practicing a little more than usual to make sure he can adapt. But their coach assured me they will be out in five minutes tops. What are you still waiting for? Go on, put on your skates," she urged you after seeing you all still just standing there, looking at the skating boys. You with all the other girls scattered on the bench to put on your skates, tying shoelaces for one another.
Just as you were finished, straightening up to see the boys walking out of the rink to sit on the other benches they had their shoes at, you just had the luck to catch the gaze of a particular boy that had mocked you just a few days prior, seen you fall down probably more than just that one last time (since you had no idea how long he was actually standing there watching you). And then there it was, that annoying smile.
As if he thought he was better than you.
You snorted to yourself, already feeling totally turned off by him even though you did not even know his name. Not that you had any interest in it.
Your figure skating practice went smoothly, with you managing to finally land the better portion of the jumps you've been having trouble with, but still not enough to be sure you can do them confidently.
Your trainer offered to have a few extra practices with you to help you better prepare for the qualifying round of the competition you were working to get into, but you politely declined her offer. You already had scheduled more individual practices with her than any other of the girls, and you knew you could practice on your own, too - you'd feel bad for keeping her there even longer.
Because as much as you needed the practice, you also knew your trainer needed some rest, too. She was always available to you whenever you needed something and you were glad for her directioning and helpful advice, but you wanted to learn to practice on your own, too, learn to put her advice she had given during both the collective and individual practices to use by yourself.
You enjoyed the silence as well, the only sound being the scratching of ice as you skates created tiny grooves on its surface, without any mentoring, being able to do the things you wanted and felt like you needed to go over again at your own chosen pace.
*
"I'm C/n," the new hockey player shouted at you once, watching you practice. It was in the midst of your jump, the call sudden, without you inquiring at all. You landed as you should, stabilizing yourself, before shooting a glare at him, standing in the entrance to the rink, with that smile of his he always wore, and the stick in his hands, subtly hinting to you to get lost because he wanted to practice himself now.
Why couldn't he just practice with the rest of his team? But you knew the answer sooner before the whole question could even form in your mind - he was new, and he needed to get adapted to a lot of new things, improve some of his techniques. It was similar to if you'd change your own trainer - you needed to get used to their different ways of teaching, different advice, different ways to do things as well.
But still - he knew you'd be there. He made it a goal of his to always crash your own solitary practice. And you knew you had no choice other than leave - even if you'd try to tell him off, to show him he can't order you around like this (as you'd done that a few times already), he'd just step on the ice nonetheless, skating around you and deliberately disturbing your own routes.
You had to leave.
"Won't you tell me your name? Do you not even have proper manners or what?"
You shoved his shoulder with yours as you exited the rink through the same entrance/exit he was standing in, the boy stumbling slightly from the unexpected force. He raised a brow at you.
"Unlike some other people in this building, I do know proper etiquette. But it's you who needs some classes," you retorted back with just as much disdain as he laced into his voice.
"Oh, c'mon!" he shouted at you, turning around to watch you untie your skates. "Is it so much to ask if I just wanna know your name?"
You had no possible idea as to why he would want to know your name, how that information would prove being of use to him, but hey - if you just tell him your name, maybe he'd leave you alone now, finally.
And thus, with a sigh of knowing you had lost to him, you muttered, "its Y/n."
He flashed a blinding smile. "Yeah, I know." And he waltzed to the ice, swishing through the air.
You could only stare in disbelief.
Just what was his deal?
*
"Do you always have to come here when I'm practicing?" you spat at him once, unable to keep the anger from showing in your voice. You had another bad day, another practice full of failed jumps and sore muscles.
That was the thing - you were an unreliable athlete. You had just many bad days as good ones. There was never a certainty that you're going to land, to ace your performance. That's why you wanted to practice more than the other girls on your team. That's why you were so annoyed when you kept systematically losing those chances because of C/n, who made it a point to always come here the same day as you, only some hours later.
You made no move to stand up from the freezing ice. Glaring at him from your position, partly laying, partly sitting as you had just encountered yet another fall, your eyes never wavered as you looked at him.
The boy, in a hoodie with the logo of his new hockey team, simply shrugged his shoulders. "You've been practicing for like three hours already. Now, it's my turn, the ice rink doesn't belong to you only. Besides," he adds, unsuccessfully suppressing a smile, "it's not my fault you keep falling and needing to train more."
"But how about you come when I finish?" you crossed your arms, still not standing up in a feeble attempt at a protest
"Because I know you'd probably be here until nightime when the rink closes." He was already stepping on the ice. "Really, I'm doing you a favor by stopping you. Your tiny body needs to rest, too, darling," he uttered with a wink. His teeth showed in another annoying smile.
You thought about punching his face, so that his teeth would fall out and he would not be able to smile anymore. But he was already warming up, skating in circles around you and you had no choice but to leave, just like all the other times before.
"Well then since you like practicing on Thursdays so much, I'll come on Wednesday!" With those words, you stormed out.
Although on Wednesday, one of the other girls had her individual practice. Whatever. You can just ask her to swap with you for once.
*
The anger was bubbling inside you.
He knew.
He knew you had swaped practices and wanted to come on Wednesday.
You had told him.
Heck, why had you told him?
"C/N!" you yelled. Your voice was louder than even their coach's one. And while the other boys merely glanced at you and continued their practice, one of them, the one you had shouted at, stopped.
Leisurely, he skated across the rink to where you stood, leaned against the wall of the rink. "I didn't realize you remembered my name. But it's nice, hearing it from your lips," he said instead of a greeting and flashed you his smile. Not like he greeted you any other time, anyway.
Your eyebrows furrowed. Your lips were pressed thinly together and you hands in fists, clutching onto the laces of your skates tightly. "I told you I wanted to practice today. Why is the whole team here?"
His eyes widened in staged surprise. "Oh, you did? Sorry, I must've misheard. I thought you wanted to continue coming here on Thursdays, so I told the team the rink would be free today for a practice match." The fake pity was dripping from his voice. "Look," he sighed when he saw you weren't budging, "can't you come tomorrow? What's the deal?"
What's the deal? The deal is that I need to practice to get qualified for the junior nationals, you thought to yourself. But in reality, you kept your mouth shut, forbidding yourself to tell him anything more than he needed to know from you, knowing well enough he didn't care anyway.
"Is there a problem, C/n?" one of his teammates came to check up on the matter. It was F/n, a much nicer boy than C/n with whom you had talked a couple times in the past.
He smiled at you when he recognized you. "Oh, hey, Y/n. What are you doing here?" His eyes went over your body, clothed in your practice attire. "Did you want to practice?" Unlike C/n, the tone of his voice showed sincere concern.
You didn't want to make F/n feel sorry that they stole the rink from you - unknowingly, and let the rest of the team down. They shouldn't pay for having such an idiot on their team. So instead of telling the truth, you shook your head, "no, sorry, I messed up the days. I thought it was tomorow already. I'll get going now."
"Okay, bye then!" F/n called out, C/n joining him innocently, as if he did not just sabotage your plans, "have a nice evening!"
*
There were only two more weeks until the competition that was supposed to determine whether you'd qualify for the junior nationals in figure skating or not. And qualifying into the junior nationals could get you into a championship. A competition much bigger than any nationals, taking place outside your country with other figure skaters all over the world.
You had never gotten into any championship on a worls scale before. You had gotten into nationals of one sort or another - but you were never able to secure a position good enough to get you somewhere farther.
And you only had two weeks to train before the event.
Today in particular, you were going over the choreography with your trainer once more, making sure you had each bit memorized.
You had been training more and more.
But your falls were still uncertain sometimes. Your performance was fluctuating still, doing well one day and worse the other.
Your hard work was still not enough to make you shine.
You needed to train harder, while also making sure not to injure yourself.
It was getting tougher and tougher.
*
"What's up, wannabe figure skater?" C/n's voice didn't surprise you. It ceased surprising you long ago, along with his creative, hidden insults and commentaries. He was once again trying to crash your solitary practice.
But this time, you were set on not letting him win. You needed to train more than anyone, knowing your time was getting closer and closer to running out. He had already so many practices - he must've gotten adapted to the team's way by now. Why was he still coming to the ice rink when he didn't need it?
So this time, you won't let him make you leave. You'll practice nonetheless, as if he wasn't there.
Over the time, you had grown accustomed to him and his way of speaking to you, going as far as returning the insults and comments yourself, with that same mocking tone - or so you tried, but it never seemed to phase him. He'd just smile, or laugh.
This time, you didn't even do so much as cast a glance at him. This time, you ignored him completely, as if he vanished into the air and wasn't standing at the entrance, ready to step onto the ice in a human, boyish form.
You skated dangerously close to the edge, passing him with a rush of breeze, his hair getting caught in it and getting disassembled on his forehead. You still didn't so much as blink at him. You pretended he wasn't there, paying no mind to the irritated feeling in the pit of your stomach.
"What, did someone sew your mouth close? Where's the wishing me a good evening part?"
You had never wished him a good evening. Nor a god night. Nor a good anything. He was just teasing you, as always.
He was already on the ice, begining to skate to warm up. His hockey stick in a gloved hand, the puck thrown on the ground. He swung the stick and passed the puck in your direction.
You, skating full speed, had to change the course of your skating the last second as you didn't see the puck coming, almost tumbling down from the sudden twisting of your legs. Turning sideways to stop, you glared at the boy. "Are you out of your mind? I could've gotten injured!" Your chest heaved up and down with aggressive breaths.
"Sorry. It's my time to practice," he just shrugged, as he did most of the times - as if the things he said or did had no real value, weren't any big deal.
Your legs moved towards him on their own. You didn't even realize it and you were standing in front of him, jabbing a finger in his chest. "No, it's not. The rink is open for everyone who wishes to train, so stop claiming it's yours." As you kept stabbing at him with your finger, he began skating backwards until he had his hands against the short sidewall of the rink. "Why do you even still keep coming here? I need to practice way more than you do."
This was the first time you saw him frown. The first time he didn't smile with that mocking face, with that confidence of his. "And what do you know about me? Why do you think I don't need to train? You don't know the first thing about hockey, so stop thinking you're oh so much better just because you can do a few spins."
You had backed away slightly at his unexpected lash out.
"Actually, can you even do a few spins? I don't recall any time I saw you try them," he added after a while, the serious side he had shown you just a second ago having disappeared and he was back to his old self, with no signs of anger or annoyance that was always present on your face.
But it was as if you hadn't heard the last part. You couldn't get it out of your head, what he had told you. It was true - you didn't know the effort it took to be a hockey player, you were only familiar with the effort of a figure skater. And the way he said it, sounding almost vulnerable and scared.
You had just found his weak side. His insecurity, what the confident boy was self conscious of.
But you couldn't let him see how it had affected you.
Besides, it didn't change the fact that your competition was coming up soon.
"I have a competition I need to train for. I really need to get it right," at this point, you didn't even care about trying to make your voice firmer. You were so tired from the constant practice, from the frustration, from all the falls and messed up twists. Even if you sounded pleading, you couldn't bring yourself to care about that.
It seemed to play on some sort of a string inside him.
"Oh," was all that came out of his mouth. He cleared his throat. "I didn't know you had a competition coming up. If you need to train, I can come some other time," he offered, no signs of his usual demeanor on his face.
You didn't even know why you felt bad. But you did. You were so used to his teasing and irritating smiles that you felt bad for making him look like that. It was as if he was... sorry?
"Wait!" you called out before you could stop yourself. He turned back to look at you, halfway exiting the rink already. "I mean- if we divide the rink in half and we keep to our side..." your voice trailed off, hoping he'd get what you wanted to say without you actually having to ask it out loud.
He flashed his signature smile, teeth blinding white showing through. "No, I'm good, darling. Just make sure to get the best out of it if I'm letting you stay." He walked away after changing his shoes, not even staying to look at you once.
That was fair, you decided. Since he had sacrificed his own training time - that he seemed to be in a need of, considering his short speech earlier in the evening - the least you could do was take advantage of the time you earned and do well in the competition, qualify for the nationals you dreamed of getting into.
You skated until it was time to close the rink, going hom sore but full of adrenaline and a newly found determination of winning.
*
Here it was. The last day before the competition you were going to participate in. This evening, you decided to rest, so that your body could be as fresh and strong as it could the next day for the event.
But still, you took a walk to the ice rink where you were now standing, breathing in the crisp, cold air that was floating around due to the freezing ice.
You were leaning against the side wall, just looking nowhere in particular. Your mind was strangely empty, opposite of the usual nervousness you had felt in the past before a competition.
You were breathing slow.
"No practice today, falling lady?" C/n spoke from behind you.
Even though you had kind of informally agreed that he will not try to crash any of your practices any more, he still came each day you were there to make sure you were using the time really practicing or to see if you had changed your mind and the ice rink was free - in that case, he'd skate himself.
You shook your head, ignoring his nickname he used to regard you with. Over the couple days, since that one evening, your relationship - if the thing between you could even be considered any kind of relationship or acquaintanceship - improved slightly. He wasn't as mocking anymore, and his teasing seemed to become just slightly more playful rather than hurtful.
"No, I'm not training today. You can, if you want."
He wasted no time sitting on the bench, swapping his shoes with his skates.
You stood there for a little time more, idly watching him practice, watching the way his legs swiftly glided across the slippery surface before going home to sleep.
*
"No!" you angrily yelled and kicked at the door.
You messed up. Big time.
After that first fall, it all just went downhill no matter how hard you tried.
You left nothing but a bad impression.
When you had returned home later that day, you couldn't keep the tears in anymore and when you locked yourself in the comfort of your room, you began to cry.
Everyone told you it was okay. That everyone sometimes messes things up and that it's no big deal to loom over. To you, it was. You couldn't help but feel disappointed, knowing you could've done much better. They kept consoling you, assuring that you can try the next year as well - but with each year that came, your chances of getting somewhere were smaller and smaller, with each year that you got older, it was less probable you will qualify for any nationals, much less a championship.
Your toe was hurting from when you kicked and you cried harder. You were angry at yourself for messing it up, for throwing all your hard work and effort away in just one misplacement of your foot.
The next day, you were back at the ice rink the first thing in the morning, ignoring your trainer's advice to rest.
When you skated, it was the only way for you to lose your mind in the moves and twists and jumps, to forget every failure. It set you free from the constant thoughts about the performance you showed at the competition that kept haunting you.
You practiced until you were drenched with sweat, until you were breathing so heavily and your heart thumping so loudly you couldn't stand up anymore.
You lay there lifelessly on the ice, feeling the coldness seep into your burning skin.
And you didn't even realize the tears were spilling down your cheeks again.
"Y/n?" someone called your name. It was a familiar voice, one that you recognized - but your mind was too preoccupied with other matters than to realize who it was until the person was finally standing over your pitiful state. "What's wrong?"
Upon realizing the owner of the voice was C/n, you sprang up so quickly your head spun. He put out his hand to steady you. It was weird, seeing him here and not hearing any teasing comments from him. He had even called you by your name. You must've finally looked so horrible even he decided to take pity on you.
You pulled your arm free of his grip and hastily wiped your tears away. "Nothing," you mumbled.
He stopped you again. "There's clearly something going on." He grew quiet for a second, appearing to think of something. "Hey, didn't you have the competition yesterday? Did something happen there?"
At the mention of the thing you so desperately wished to forget, another wave of tears rolled down your cheeks unwillingly. "Nothing happened. That's the matter," you added when you saw him open his mouth again. "I didn't do well. I made a mistake and then I just couldn't get anything else right." Your hands pulled at your hair in frustration.
"Let's go sit down," he whispered and gently pushed your back to direct you to the exit, going to sit on one of the benches by the sides outside of the rink. His hand remained on your back even after you had sat down, though. "I'm sure there will be other competitions, no?"
"There will. But not the same like this one. This one could've gotten me into nationals, and those could've gotten me into a championship. But of course, I'm the falling lady - I just had to fell down the first thing after starting my choreography," your voice was laced with irritation. Then, you laughed at the absurdity of all of it.
"I mean, I guess I can compete next year, too," you added at last, quieter, calmer. "But it's just- I don't even know. I thought I could do it. I really could. I tried my hardest. Why was it not enough?" Your mood was wavering wildly.
C/n's hand was rubbing circles on your back. "You know," he began, voice set low, "I tried out for this hockey team last year, as well. But I made too many mistakes at the tryouts."
You looked at him, wondering where he was going with this story, but he refused to meet your gaze. He was staring at his skates.
"I didn't get into the team, obviously. But," he finally looked at you, emphasizing his voice, "it gave me all the bigger reason to try even harder for this year and look," he spread out his hands, removing the one that had been on your back from the place, "I got in this year."
"Maybe you did," you agreed, "but how can I know I would? I thought I was trying my best already - I don't think I could try even harder than now." You slumped down, leaning your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands before looking up again as he spoke.
"You can do everything if you set your mind to it. I know you can," he encouragingly told you.
"But what if my effort will still be too little? How can I know I'm trying hard enough?"
"As long as you're giving it your best and continue to push even during the times when you feel like giving up, that's enough."
You had never noticed how intense his eyes looked until now. You couldn't bear to look at him any longer, needing to avert your eyes from him. You felt so naked in that moment, as if you had just revealed your darkest secret to him.
When the silence was getting too prolonged, he awkwardly stretched and stood up, "well, I guess I'm gonna go practice. Unless you'd want to, I mean." He glanced at you with a question lingering in his eyes.
You shook your head at him, signaling that he can use the rink as much as he pleased to. The new atmosphere that had settled between you two was weird, but not unpleasant. It was like you two finally had something to share, something to understand about one another.
And, somehow, after those words, you found yourself improving in the next months that came, preparing yourself for the competition once again.
He still came to watch you practice sometime, and you would also occasionally split the rink into halves and would practice simultaneously.
There was a time you tried teaching him to spin like you, but he always kept getting too dizzy from the fast spinning. And then he played a one on one hockey match with you in return.
Like that, you began to know each other's world's as well.
You celebrated together when his hockey team won a match and you celebrated together when you managed to score a good landing and place yourself high on some competition of sorts.
And although you had spilled many more tears, sweat and blood, you felt so much more better and confident in your figure skating skills. Your trainer had been of a great help too, of course, along with C/n, as you had often found a good friend in him in the months that came.
And he did in you, too.
Because as much as you celebrated the wins, you also comforted yourselves during failures.
It was a year of many changes and the competition that could get you into nationals finally came again.
C/n came to watch you, too. You caught a glimpse of him already watching you attentively before you stepped onto the ice, the boy flashing you a smile that you came to love.
Inhaling deeply, you began the performance of a lifetime.