Waltz For One – Part 3

The last few days had been such a whirlwind of unbelievable events it left Ivan half-certain he was in a dream. But now things were slowly winding down, and soon he would have to leave the place altogether. He was to return to a humdrum life, finish his formal schooling, perhaps even go on to higher education. He was not quite decided on the matter. So much of his focus had been on his figure skating career after all.

Before he was to leave he thought he would sneak into the stadium for a final time.

He chose to go through the locker room as part of his late-night excursion. It was dark, and he half-expected to be turned away at any moment by a patrolling guard or a locked door. But the doors were all unlocked and there was no-one around to stop him. It proved surprisingly easy to get in.

When he got to the ice rink, however, it was clear that somebody else had beaten him to it. The lights were on, but only the ones over the rink, leaving the audience seats in the dark. Music was crackling from what sounded like a portable CD player – loud but simultaneously muffled in the size of the stadium, without any weight behind it – accompanied by the noise of blades slicing over ice, the unmistakable sound of someone skating.

Ivan edged himself towards the rink, curious. When he got close enough, he saw that the skater was none other than Yao, consecutive world champion and his lifelong hero.

Yao was stroking round and round the ice rink, rapidly gathering speed. Once he reached a peak, he leapt high into the air and executed a tight double spin, landing back on the ice on one feet with the rest of his limbs thrown out for balance. He kept his momentum as he stroked another lap around the ice, jumping into air with another spin, and another, and another – three in a row, landing perfectly each time.

He was not skating to a routine. It looked as if he was simply having fun.

Ivan watched, mesmerised, as Yao went on to practice his footwork so flawlessly it looked effortless. It was one thing to watch his hero on television, quite another entirely to see him at work this close. Ivan could touch him if he simply reached out his hand. He found himself longing to do so.

The music was coming to an end, and Yao slowed with it, wiping perspiration from his brow with the sleeve of his jumper, looking the happiest Ivan had ever seen him.

Then he caught sight of Ivan and stopped abruptly, his skates screeching as they dug deep into the ice.

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" he said sharply.

Ivan felt quashed. "P-pardon, I didn't mean to intrude…" he mumbled.

Yao glided smoothly across the ice to Ivan. He stopped at the benches and grabbed a bottle of water from his bag, twisting off the cap and drinking deeply from it. His sharp golden eyes never left Ivan, boring into him.

"Have you brought your skates?" he said once he had drunk his fill.

"I – what?"

"Your skates," Yao repeated with a touch of impatience. "You came here to skate as well, haven't you?"

Ivan blinked. "I may… sk-skate… with you?"

Yao capped his bottle and dropped it back into his bag. He twisted around, gliding back out into the rink, and said over his shoulder, "Put them on and join me when you're ready."

Ivan dropped onto the bench, dug out his own skates from the bag he had indeed brought along, and strapped them onto his feet quicker than he had ever done in his whole life. Once he had them on, he skated across the ice to where Yao had gone to fiddle with the CD player, heart lodged in his throat.

This was another dream, surely.

The music that floated now from the crackly speakers was a simple waltz piece. Yao spun around on the spot as Ivan approached him, shyly offering his hand.

"May I?"

Yao said nothing, but placed his own hand into Ivan's and allowed himself to be pulled into a more intimate space. Ivan rested his free hand lightly on Yao's waist, to which Yao raised an enquiring eyebrow, but still he said nothing.

They glided once around the rink at a simple, leisurely pace.

"You were the one who got me into, uhm, skating."

"Is that so?"

They slowed almost to a stop and Ivan raised their hands to spin Yao. Yao followed his lead with another quirked eyebrow. He could not pass up the opportunity to turn the twirl into a little pirouette, and Ivan admired his footing up close. Another part of him simply admired the length of his leg.

"Thank you for saying so," Yao said as their hands clasped together once more.

Ah, he was smiling. Everything about him changed when he smiled, especially his eyes which soften to a warm, golden glow, and he looked less stern then. But this was quite different from his usual smiles – not the assured quirk of lips as he executed a particularly tricky routine. It was a little more subdued if no less radiant, a little more sincere. Ivan realised then that it had been his words which had triggered it, and he felt his cheeks flame up.

That was when he lost his footing and fell with a crash. He had instinctively grabbed on to Yao, who fell with him, and now he was flat on his back on the cold, wet ice staring up at the white blazing lights.

"Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?"

He did feel a little light-headed, though he was not sure if it was solely from the impact of the fall.

As he gazed up at a startled and concerned Yao, his mind latched on to only one thought. Without thinking, without realising what he was doing, he propped himself up to narrow the distance between them and carefully, very carefully, he kissed Yao on the lips.